Lifted from mouths open wide enough
To expel trash-talking pride
And plunged into the ears of
Unsuspecting friends brushed aside
Like rubbish lying on
An early-morning dance floor
As broom and mop execute
The will of the janitor

Not an epic,
But still a poem
These words hatched
In Evanston
Do they spark a campfire story
Replete with cliché highs and lows,
And hackneyed champion triumphs
Over stock, malicious foes?
Survival of the fittest
And all that social Darwinist shit?
Or does the rhyme simply expose a short-circuit
Leaving proper scores unlit?

Or worse, perhaps the verse simply exposes
Mean-spirited aches
Inflicted upon Whirlyball innocents
By a team called L; or was is G? or was it H?