America's Team

Photo from Dallas Observer

This poem penned by Blog Editor Frank Turrisi explores a friend's true story in lieu of NFL reactions to comments made by President Trump. (click)

by Frank Turrisi

It was a perfect Sunday.  The Dallas Cowboys won,
And the Southern California weather lured me outside.
As I step out on my block, I love the way that Hollywood
Energy makes you feel anything is possible.  My steps
Feel so light, as I pass under the Mexican Fan Palms,


Reaching so hopefully into the sunset.  The green parrots
Are flocking above, and talking a language I wish I
Knew.  The Jacarandas lay their purple flowers at my feet,
And I remember not everyone likes them as I wonder,
Does the color overwhelm them?  I suppose they stain
The pavement.  Their scent perfumes the entire street,
And make my feet stick to the ground.  They are impossible
To clean up.  The residue of their nectar won’t easily
Wash off the paint of the expensive automobiles.


It was a perfect Sunday.  I was happy to see my neighbor
Could enjoy the day too.  Before I could even say hi to her,
She reeled back on her heels in terror, at just the sight
Of me.  Gasping, she pulled the leash around the neck
Of her oblivious designer dog, and I noticed the helpless
Animal suspended by its collar that looked like a noose
Snapping for a second.  I watched the woman in the yoga pants
Cover herself up with her arms as if all I wanted to see was
Under her halter tank top that exposed so much white skin.


I stepped into the road to politely avoid her path, and smiled
That same non-threatening smile that has earned me thousands
In commercials, to let her know my dark skin and athletic build
Were no peril.  I am an actor, and so used to disguising my real
Emotion for the pleasure of others.  I wish I could say
I hadn’t threatened anybody just on sight before.  I almost
Forgot that white billionaire owners, locked arms with black
Players locking arms with whites and browns and took
A knee during the national anthem just hours ago.  There was
Solidarity on America’s Team, and in that moment I was inspired
By how they all stood for equality together.  Perhaps I was too full 
Of nostalgia as I watched my favorite childhood game, and got lost.


It was a perfect Sunday.  I kept walking as I pretended 
I was on an audition.  Like the times from days not too far
Past, where I hoped for all those roles that cast me as a villain.
They were the only parts I had the chance to get.  I tried
Not to take it personally, told myself it was a stepping stone,
And one day I would be able to show all of them that I was more.
Some cannot see my success now, like me, they choose to see
What they like too.  Maybe they’ll never see what I've become.


In that Hollywood energy, I still hope anything is possible.
The weather is still perfect, as I walk one with the green parrots
Speaking the language only they will ever really know.
In my heart, I stand for the anthem of this country that I love,
And I kneel for the soldiers losing the battle on our soil every day.  
I remind myself, not everyone likes Jacarandas, some people
Might never care if the Dallas Cowboys ever win at all.  Maybe
Their perfect Sunday doesn’t have solidarity on America's Team.

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