Deflate Gate
By: Tom Brady

When it comes to football
it’s all about the ball
it’s got nothing to do with skill
or giving our fans a thrill

When I cozy up behind the hiker
and give the call to begin the game
he snaps the ball into my hands
as the crowd screams from the stands

Then I make my famous moves
to the left, maybe right, maybe back
either to pass the ball or, to
hand it off to a running back

Where the ball goes, nobody knows
just me – in my moment of glory
whether the ball is soft or hard
I can’t be bothered or give a worry

Seems strange to me about the air  
inside the ball – being such a big crime
they check the pressure when we start
why not each quarter, or, during half time

Whether a ball is soft or hard at game’s end
no difference to me or any team mate
we’re here to play our best on game day
not to deflate ***** or litigate

From padded window seat inside café
cup of tea warms my hands
cold winds shuffle sidewalk leaves
Two tables away sit two men
one in October years
the other May
Soiled clothes, old scuffed shoes, beat up weathered
faces, bloodshot eyes, ***** hair disheveled
The older begins reading to the younger
from newspaper wrinkled by other hands
“Rain and wind coming in tonight from the west,
tomorrow - clearing, with temps in high 30s
toward evening - dropping to low 30s
Saturday, sunny, high 30s”
The young man’s grizzled chiseled face
seemingly stoic
flinched stiff with the words

“Sunday, low 20s, snow mixed with sleet”