Your cleats move quickly around the ball at your feet,
Headphone wires dancing along the Batman t-shirt
Stretched tight against your skin.
I can see how you make an extra effort to keep your head cocked,
Muscles in your neck stretched just enough so
Even you relish the image.
Us women on the sidelines admire
Your broad shoulders,
Jawline sharper than wit,
your partnered tap dance with a cast of athletes and a single spotlight,
performing as though you were floating;
no one can touch you.

Your dance whispers softly of dark nights at dimly-lit fields,
Lonesome afternoons with only a ball as your accomplice,
Though Determination isn’t always
the most popular partner, because
when you open your mouth
Your words tell of an obvious prioritization,
of failed tests and bright red F’s;
I can taste the failure,
Spitting off the curve of your lip in increments of achievement and expectation -
You’re a victim to the tests that life does not offer.

Yet,
cleats on,
You’re passing with flying colors,
But no tests require pen and paper.