Momentum

He has you reeling

in a good way,

"Yea

Fuck Washburn!"

"Those Ichabods think that we came here to lose well I'll

tell you what, No sir! Not Today!"

Steam builds as the locomotive

turns the corner.

We are one collective pulse.

There is an allure today

something in the air

his presence is so strong.

All of us sitting there

in white with purple trim

we all feel it.

For five foot seven

he seems so tall.

Pudgy has morphed into a proud stout.

His voice gains momentum, boisterously 

destroying the tracks of doubt that lay before us.

"They don't think we can do it.

They got us losing 28-0.

Fuck that!"

Then he tries to rip the newspaper,

forgetting that it's laminated,

and the train screeches to a familiar halt.