Summer
On Sunday
Goose came over
and we played shots in the back-yard.
Goose had five shots
and scored every time.
No matter how much I dived
I could never get near his
power-house drives.
Once, just before he kicked
I thought of yelling "Hey Herman!"
but I wouldn't do that
to my friend, would I?
Me and Goose talked about
school, and food, and
long summer weekends without soccer
which, as you may have guessed,
we're both obsessed with.
We talked about lots of things
but
neither Goose or me
had enough heart and strength
to mention yesterday's game.
Yesterday wasn't yesterday anymore.
It was last season.
We talked about next season.