preseason
at bengals training camp
deep in the bluegrass of kentucky
my dad
is the first person up every morning
he rubs the sleep out of his eyes
places his accent back under his tongue
like chewing tobacco snuff
shakes the limp residue of a losing season
out of his ball cap
orange and black
walks outside
waits until 5:45
holds the air horn up and
blows
80 miles away
his daughter swears she can hear him
she is still awake at 5:45
her eyes droop down as the sun comes up
shakes the law school worries out of her hair
places her mac down
which is perpetually on
falls asleep to
the melody of rush hour traffic on the street
until she's startled by a car horn that bellows and
blows
there's no such thing as a preseason
there's no such thing as a summer
every moment is of the essence
every second has to count
daddy and i will not stop
until the last whistle
blows
