The Poet Community

Game Called | A Poem by Donal Mahoney

It’s bad news, I admit,
having these great seats
for a big game like this

but now there’s rain
and everyone’s
leaving

heading for cars
but the storm’s a rainbow
compared with this text

on my cell phone.
It’s from an old friend
recently retired

after doing 40 years
as a janitor for
a pittance in pay.

He moved to Florida
on social security
and rented a trailer.

He quit smoking finally,
said it’s cheaper to chew.
Today the doc told him

to wrap things up.
Gave him six months,
maybe a year.

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