kicked in the face.

no,
for real, duders.
i caught much wreck at soccer this week.
falling, tripping, shoving, diving, running,
leg breaking, unguarded shin-splintering,
cleat-wreaking foot snapping,
skidmarked skinned knees,
grass rash, bug bites, sweat-sting,
and balls to the mutha-flippin' faaaaace!
ouch.
c'mon.
huh?
who lost their temper?
wrong!
it wasn't me, kids.
violence of action in the spirit of play?
i'm pretty much all about that.
games are for fun, stoopidheads.
if you can't have fun?
yuup.
don't play games.
...my nose hurts though.
that's real
smooshed flat,
and then bounced back into place.
for a mini-minute i felt like i was back in Hamden again.
warrior crew ninjas get punched in their grills a lot.
just sayin',
i got a baby bit homesick for a second,
and then got my brain back into the game.
oh,
and somehow,
in my graceless ugly duckling waddle across the footy pitch,
back and forth, and to and fro,
i pulled my groin, too.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
side-wiener self-destruction.
ice and stretches haven't helped either, neighbors-
lucky for us, though,
my whole entire crotchal puffery is at present
my very least relevant area of expert execution.
inactivation!?
i doo-doo that, too.
ummm....sure.
*
inopportune soundtracks.
yep.
y'all know what i mean.
the perfectly wrong song, cued up, turned up,
and sung out at the least useful time.
a long car ride, all alone,
and a brand new avett brothers album?
those jauns tried to do me in.
winter in my heart, friends.
sappy sad songs and stretches of country roads.
it's definitely a hard style.
and that's just my type.
two kinds of beauty,
three kinds of misery,
across all four corners of the world.
five senses, lost, and senseless-
six feet under the soil;
never quiet, never soft.....