A Dance in the Pub for Carlos Alberto
By ralph
Sat, 07 Mar 2020
- 391 reads
1 comments
Without doubt, mate,
it was about the density
of the Rediffusion days,
of colour television
and the merging
of two decades.
A beautiful game
played in thin air,
keeping me in sweat,
breathing in staccato
for nearly fifty years.
Mate. That
last pass
against Italy.
A simple, sweet Samba
composed
on a beach lit in
visceral yellow
surrounded by Kryptonite
green mountains.
GOAL!
Same again, mate?
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Comments
Laduuuuuma!!
Laduuuuuma!! These days I hear they play whithout spectators the pavillions empty everybody watches at home on their TV sets. Not the same hey?
Excellent poem Ralph! Tom Brown
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