it’s third down
on mt everest
my dad at the bar says
mt everest is the highest
but not the most difficult

it’s third down and extremely long
there’s an overbearing wind
dressed in another teams uniform
that’s blowing and blowing
right in bills fan’s face

security is on alert
a balloon knocks the stadium’s power out
there are no lights on in the bathrooms
bills fan is pissing wherever
the sink
the mop bucket
the floor
his pants

it’s third down
on K2
the bills may never score again
the kicker has left the stadium
the kicker is a painter
he has left to go home
into his basement studio
and paint another triptych
in his ‘riders of the apocalypse’ series

the bills just got scored on
we’re not sure how
my dad recites the kol nidre prayer
“i renounce and deny any affiliation
with the buffalo bills . . .”
the bar goes quiet
the sky which had always been gray
gets heavier
and sucks the drunk red
out of bills fan’s face

it’s third down
and the bills decide to punt preemptively
the punter takes the field
to ‘wild thing’ and pumps his fist
bills fan loves a good punt

i piss myself at the bar
it doesn’t feel like pee
it feels like the longest tear
my body has ever created
outside a cop car goes off the road
and plows into a Tim Horton’s
i can’t stop watching the game

it’s still third down
and raining yellow snow
ralph wilson stays alive
bills fan renews itself every generation
in the waste areas off the buffalo river
where we all used to get beat up as kids
breaking windows and making teachers cry

the bills get the ball back
first string quarterback is injured
second-string quarterback has peach fuzz all over his face
we don’t have a third-string
only the punter comes back onto field
wild thing
you make my heart sing
bills fan gets pumped
the end is near

in the fourth quarter
they turn the scoreboard off
it’s third down and one
and the coach calls a flea-flicker
to be thrown by a running back
the ball’s in the air
it’s so high
it looks like a punt
the Jills go into their wild thing routine
the kicker painter at home
is going expressionist with black oil paints
the bar holds it’s breath
just as the ball is falling into a cornerback’s arms
a 5 foot 3 receiver runs under it
and splits the defense
this is better than a punt
he’s the fastest shortest guy ever
and no one will catch him

Aaron Lowinger

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Aaron's poem was also posted on Artvoice Daily earlier in the week, so head over there if you'd like to leave a comment or join the resulting discussion.