The net's too small,ain't that the truth,
And there's a big guy,
over six feet tall –
pads, mask and gloves
and a stick bigger than the rest –
But they still go in.
They fly in,
and fast:
Plenty of 'em.
Iced speed freaks
Career down the wings
Shower sprays of snow arresting
Or stopped dead
Or slammed in momentum's braking
All for a frozen vulcanized rubber disc:
It matters more,
much, much more,
Than lunch, divorce, mortgage.
Intuitive/inteface/pass
Clear panic clear
Dictate tactic – THE TACTICS! –
Manouevre/play/call.
And laying still on ice
a broken stick or two,
bleach bones of warriors moved on.
Hallowed hall of rusting antiquity
Prole's circus function rough casted
Inhale the gents' steaming thick piss cloud
From cheap beer and pricey pretzels.
Behind, before, beside,
in attention devout
the scream, shout, compelled responsers
Heart hurt down raptured up
Until the last play, at one and unified:
We love you – you are us
5:4
At last!
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