Dad Has Football Fever – by Chris Wood
Copper door knocker disturbs turtledoves,
snuggled in their nest,
on the ledge of the porch ceiling.
Tennessee orange flag waves in the windy remnants
of hurricane Harvey blowing through Chattanooga
as the Crimson Tide rolls into living rooms across the south.
I watch my dad and his buddies,
wringing their hands in anticipation,
take their places in front of the big screen TV.
Michelob light lined evenly
on the second shelf of the fridge.
Tequila lime wings smoking on the grill.
A hush comes over the stadium
as players in red and white jerseys
line up on the thirty-five yardline.
Beer bottles clink at kickoff.
The crowd roars as the ball spirals
to eye level of the nose bleed section.
Let the games begin.