I take the snap from the center, fake to the right, fade back...I've got protection. I've got a receiver open downfield...What the hell is this? This isn't a football, it's a shoe, a man'sbrown leather oxford. A cousin to a football maybe, the sameskin, but not the same, a thing made for the earth, not the air.I realize that this is a world where anything is possible and Iunderstand, also, that one often has to make do with what onehas. I have eaten pancakes, for instance, with that clear cornsyrup on them because there was no maple syrup and theyweren't very good. Well, anyway, this is different. (My mandownfield is waving his arms.) One has certain responsibilities,one has to make choices. This isn't right and I'm not goingto throw it.
COURTESY OF http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/060.html
RESPONSE: This poem is almost like an anology. The anology is to make the right choices and whoever is waving at you just like the reciever in a football game. You hsve to decide who is open and throw it to him. (The right choices are the open recievers)
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