the superbowl hoopla

as a GMO gluten
and monosodium allow
wing glutinate free
NON SPORTS fan, holy cow
a gentle fear shakes, rocks,
and trembles thru every dDhow

ting fiber of me one hundred
and forty five pounds (give or take a hun
dread ounces) finds me feeling
like a castaway
on an alien nation, none
share totally tubular,

where athletes revered
as holier than thou hook hen pun
which craft
this wordsmith doth shine,
and experiences the equivalent run
tooth ha goal post, and envision

me octogenarian widower papa
paying attaboy with "way tug hoe son"
or a similar comment,
which unasked for unsolicited praise
would be worth a ton
as if this bone a fide wordsmith
would cherish as a sentiment hard won,

which figurative convenient truthful
( Earth in the balance) tangent
arced geometric fender
to express gratitude
(nevermind their gender),

who unwittingly boost and tearful lender
my morale doth render
akin to a spender
for anonymous readers,
yet moost likely an appealing sender
via flattering comments,
an emotional legal tender

this sensitive chap also makes apologies
(and steers clear) ass king for any alley byes
unwittingly me to refrain ushering my demise
hence...THANK YOU

unknown gals and guys
this honest to dog statement
summoned deep within me...noel hies
saccharine steeped sincere lies.

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