Fantasy Football
(from the ball's perspective)
It’s Sunday Morning, time to impress
Everyone’s looking, I have to do my best.
Do I have enough air? Are my seals closed tight?
I wouldn’t want to be lonely on Sunday night.
The day starts early with many inspections.
The team manager looks at all of us, and makes his selections.
He chooses the one that feels the best.
And look at that! I feel better than the rest!
Oh, I am looking good today, ready to play.
The final inspections before I get my say.
These are the hardest because these guys are the ones
Who are going to hold me, caress me, and squeeze my buns!
Well Good Morning Peyton! How do you do?
I am so lucky to be starting for you.
I’ve always dreamed of being in your hands.
All of your wishes today are my command.
I love how you squeeze me from head to toe,
Placing your fingers firmly between each row.
You tell the manager you like my shape.
You say I feel lucky, inside it makes me go ape!
You toss me aside and pick up the next
And do the same until you get a text
It’s the coach wanting to see you soon
I just wait patiently until game time, around noon.
When everyone’s gone, the football babe gossip begins.
They tell me how things are for all of my friends.
How they got treated, where they worked and where they’ve been.
This week has been tough, it’s a shame and a sin.
One friend got picked for the Patriots game last Sunday night.
Got her ass kicked up and down the field, just isn’t right.
She begged to be handled sweetly, licked and tossed,
She longed for another chance with Randy Moss.
Another was selected to play with the Bills.
Hhh~ Another boring night with no spectacular frills.
Yes, T.O. is on the team, but that’s no big pop
Because every time she touches his hands, she ends up dropped.
My girl was chosen to play with Romo.
What she’s expected to do, she doesn’t know.
She tried to explain that she can’t perform miracles.
His plays are not planned, rather completely lyrical.
“Poor girls!” I say as we continue to talk through the walls.
Thinking how it’s better to be us than other types of balls.
The other kinds of balls have it much worse than we do.
They often don’t return to talk and laugh and see another day through.
Although we may get our asses kicked from time to time,
Their Daddys try to kill them and send them flying.
We’ve got golf balls, hit with clubs across a huge course.
We’ve got baseballs hit with bats, can’t say what’s worse.
They there are the basketballs, slammed to the floor.
When the players get mad, they slam them into the doors.
Like us they are handled by the best of millionaires.
Man I miss the touch passes by Steve McNair.
Hhh back to us I now return.
Thinking of how my body yearns
To be felt, grabbed, tossed and kicked.
Collie, Wayne, don’t let me get picked.
At this time, I’ll take a quick break
Don’t want to look tired cuz I tried to stay awake.
“See you soon Peyton dear” I whisper before going to sleep.
I dream about him holding me tight just before going deep.
Doriannicole Standish
8 Nov 09
