The Day I Dotted the I

Sky Buckeye black

The morning is cold.

In the stadium dorm room.

Sounds.

Over night tailgate.

Music from outside.

One practice run.

Grab my axe.

The Sousa phone.

Take the instrument into my lap.

With a clean white rag.

Buff the silver

Till it shines.

A mirror.

I look at my face in the curve.

Reflection.

Adjust my glasses

Take a comb

Through my hair.

The modified uniform is clean.

My colors: Red. White. Silver.

The hat sits across the room in it's own chair.

Magic hat.

Black with a red band wrapped around

The center

A large white and gray feather

Sticking straight up

Pointing out the sky.

Put the horn down gently.

Get to work on my shoes.

Working the rag over the black

Shoes till they look new.

As if I bought them.

Dressed in sweat pants.

I open the door and out

Corridor surrounding the field.

I walk the full circle

Inside the stadium

Around the field

The sunlight penetrating the holes

Architecture of stars.

Floods of light create a

An obstacle of shadows

Around the inner ring

40,ooo yards of concrete

The house that Harley built.

Stop at the tunnel

And walk through

Breaking into the crisp

Buckeye morning with

Deep blue early sky.

Script Ohio

Best damn band in the land

Preserving cursive in our culture