come on over and watch the game

my neighbor

likes football.

i like football, but the common

interests sort

of end there.

i see him on Sundays

carrying in

cases of beer

and rotisserie chickens.

his big truck has eight

cylinders and American

flags

are hanging everywhere.

he's very patriotic

and has

an interesting assortment

of tattoos

running up his arms

and around

his neck.

which is all fine.

we say hello in passing,

but that's about it.

but then he asks

me if i'd like to come

over and watch

the game with him.

i cringe, and sigh, and

say geeze, i wish i could,

but my friend

Lula Bell is in treatment

at the hospital

for the next

six months, and i have

to help her out

with needles and stuff.

if i don't go,

she might die.