After dividing ourselves <br />And having dressed <br />In near angelic whiteness <br />Do we stroll upon the field <br />We shout our guttural cries <br />Ritual insults as required <br />By the customs of the game <br />The we gather to our respective sides <br />And with a kick of pigskin <br />We are off <br />Flurries of muck <br />Marking our trails <br />As we enthusastically charge <br />Throwing ourselves into fray <br />Bodies collide and fall <br />Sliding through the ooze <br />That we play upon <br />No one keeps score <br />For victory is not our aim <br />Merely to enjoy the day <br />Embracing each other at the end <br />Since no matter what went before <br />We are all the same color now <br />Having acheived a muddy equality <br /> -STD '98<br /><br />Stephen De Marino<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mud-football/
