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Yeah, I'm That Guy.
March 4, 2013
Breaking, cracking, snapping, crunching
A blinding light, a dizzying headache
Whistles screeching, coaches yelling
The sun's blistering heat, the grass' softness
Lying there unaided, save a few teammates,
The bitter taste of my Riddel mouth guard
An icy breeze sweeps through, A chill runs down my spine, Stand up: a sharp pain through my leg
Fall down: sweet relief
Carted off the field, everyone watches
Cameras flashing, parents exclaiming.
Chicks, dig, scars.
© Michael L., Bethesda, MD
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