Air-Conditioned Fans

By Stephen Watt

This article first appeared in Issue 4 which was published in June 2017.

Painted faces tilt back.

Pint-if-we-win-wristbands

adopt Hear No Evil pose

with mouths lying unhinged

in disbelief that he hasn’t scored.

One supporter makes a dugout

from a table, grateful

for cellulite and pungent sneakers

than watching what these underachievers

have to offer.

Tuesday night live football

spent applauding screens

as if they were in the stadiums

where the teams

could actually hear them

singing all the wrong words

to the national anthem.

Half-time half-pies

are served in grease-doused napkins,

worn like Ku Klux Klan mannequins

(Minus the racism

or burning crosses)

to boys as bloodless as Gary Numan.

Only the occasional belch

discerns them as human.

The illusion of live football

comes air-conditioned,

sponsored by Carling

between two large cushions

on a large television

with someone else’s opinions,

commentating.

This article first appeared in Issue 4 which was published in June 2017.

Issue 14
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