If I had erased my life there
where the touchdown more than race
holds attention now
how martyred he would have been
his dedication to his work
how unquestionable!
But I am stoned and do not worry
—sitting in this motel room—
for when his footsteps at last disturb
the remnants of my self-pity
there will be nothing here
to point to his love of me
not even my appreciation.