March 13, 2009

Spirit

The cheerleaders are back.
Like grackles or ptarmigans
or some other migrating bird
that comes from the north,
they have returned.

They are scattered among the
restaurants along University,
pecking in large groups about
bowls of chips and salsa.

They stop traffic near the
baseball field, one long river
of pigtails and pep, balancing pretention
like a liberty on their glossy lips.

But on the basketball courts,
huddled like flamingos
they squawk and shout,
screaming with their painted beaks
and stretching their featherless wings
to what they have made
an unconquerable god.