friend was wearing brand new
blue kit this morning
she's so sweet and excited,
but at work - both of us are
I couldn't tell her
my love of Senegal's team,
or she'd yank my beard
couldn't say how much Mane's
post-goal prayers inspire me
I can't even say things -
my bad Spanish far worse than
her broken English
but we look forward to each
other ev'ryday, flirting friends
she asks me if there's
a nueva novia,
tugging at her ring
she was first to notice my
finger first being ringless
American born
but don't really possess that
same psycho logic
how did I end up at this
desk down-low streaming World Cup?
living in city
which had newsworthy conflicts
in the streets last year
our football is concussions,
beer, flags, and military
the nationalism
of World Cup, perhaps lacking
war's prejudices
except Russia, "whiteness", and
Trump/Clinton dystopia
from this group, pair of
non-European teams will
qualify further
the only African and
Asian teams possibly left
football mimicking
Earth's colonial stories,
"Western culture" wins
in America, we don't
care, with militant anger
sitting at my desk,
pretending I'm productive,
like all other days
the facade of achieving
self-worth through mundane time waste
the myth that the good
life is easily attained,
just put in the work
while an oligarchic Earth
sits in luxury boxes
my Colombian
friend passionately streams
the match while working
serving coffee to gringos;
my desktop full of spreadsheets
it all still adds up
to nothing, listening to
dull Fox announcers
passionless exercise through
the only today ever
matches themselves were
wild finish, with anyone's
goal changing finish
Japan and Senegal down
to yellow card tiebreaker
Fair Play points - as if
meritocracy was real;
but it never was
Africa's final entrant,
eliminated by cards
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