The Sportsman's Antics

The day is spent in nervous anticipation.
As twilight falls, you move to your appointed place.
Darkness hides you, surrounds you,
A light beckons to you; a figure draws your attention.
Amid the roaring crowd you approach.
You size them up, they seem so familiar,
Each night a different person.
The crowds fade away,
The two of you are surrounded by a vast chasm.
You do the dance that is required.
Sweaty bodies clash, pushing, pulling.
Emotions run high, but it is merely for show,
All too soon it is over.
You walk down the dark and empty street,
Wearily, you head for home.


This poem was originally written in 2005 for a humanities class assignment, one of those things where you have to write a poem and then analyze your own poem. I happened to come across it while going through my old files, so I decided to keep it here.

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