Defense/Art Piece

There is a white pain at the top of your brain
And your skin prickles with electrical current
And you can barely feel the burn in your legs
And your back as you await the concert clap
As the offense breaks the huddle
And you are staring at the linemen
Trying to burn holes in their helmets
Walking sideways to the line of scrimmage
To your position across from your foe

And the quarterback is yelling drivel
Only the cadence has sense
The rest is nonsense
Until the appointed noise strikes
And suddenly the world is in motion
Swirling around you, a Disney ride
Of motion and grunting and lights
And you are watching the player in front of you
But trying to sort out the leather ball
As they play confidence tricks around you

And there is a river flow of humanity
Swirling up and around and past you
Fox and hounds, fox and hounds
To the bleat, bleat of your heart
And you are caught in the flow
Following the pieces of the ballet
Trying to catch the performance art
In which you might be an important part
Moving with this partner, taking another
Following the brown object which calls the dance

Until the ball is before you, near you
And you are lunging for its shadow
Catching the piece, making sense
Of the swirling dance in which you find yourself,
Until you catch ahold of the dancer
And take him to ground
Like a fox at the hounds
Where the sound of the official's whistle
Blowing in your earpiece
Signals the end of the dance.