Sink deep in a leather recliner.
Steadily sip a can of Lone Star.
Breathe in cold air conditioning.
Watch physically anomalous men
Sprint like angry grizzly bears
In the scorching syrupy heat.
See their skin cry with sweat,
Their steely eyes beady with focus.
Deep fry a damn egg roll
While you peer at the TV.
Hope your team makes a comeback,
And then suddenly wolves,
Hundreds and hundreds of wolves,
An ocean tide of wolves spill
Out onto the field from every corner,
And they devour each player,
Rip their meticulously crafted muscles
Like nothing more than Buffalo wings.
No one can see their favorite player
Under the writhing furry mass,
And now the game is called.
No one wins.
I hate football.