Games

They gather in the living room
to watch the game
cases of beer and cigars rule the day
I stay in the kitchen
making snacks and occasionally bringing
fresh bottles
dumping ashtrays.
They make crude remarks
as I leave the room
and they laugh
uproariously
I hide in the bedroom until I hear them call
more beer, more pizza, more, more, more
The stench of smoke is almost overpowering
They fart and they belch
and they laugh
I want to leave, I want to run
and hide myself away
but they keep calling
more
bring more
God, I love you, but
I hate Sunday
It seems to go on for days
the dreadful anticipation of
the games after the game
when they move out of the living room
and gather by the bed
my heart sinks down
I lie there, knowing what is expected of me now
and all the drugs and all the alcohol
in the world
cannot take away
the shame I feel at this moment
bitterness
despair
lost again
as they play
the games after the game