Camaraderie by: Yennifer Gonzalez, Graphite, 2018
162 Days of Pain and Suffering
Oh, Philadelphia,
Every year. Every freakin’ year!
The mummers walk the streets with pride.
The only parade you’ll ever devise.
You’ll never see the army of convertible Cadillacs,
Driving
Down,
Down,
Down,
The narrow streets
Lined with smiling faces
And drunk fans acting like animals.
You’re too focused on reliving Rocky.
And yes, Rocky is the spirit of Philadelphia,
And yes, he is the Italian Stallion,
And yes, you do have a statue of him on top of the stairs to the art museum
Which are only known to tourists as the “Rocky Steps.”
Day in and day out I see dees Jabronis;
Running up and down the stairs like they own the place.
Your fat little body will never equal Rocky’s.
Look at you now! You can’t even make it up to the top!
Then there’s Independence Hall.
Newsflash everyone!
It’s.
A.
Bell.
The only other thing to do there is get a cheesesteak.
Then you have the debate of picking Pat’s or Geno’s.
Here’s a tip: Pick Pat’s.
They’ll give you that authentic Philly vibe
Complete with gruff remarks and rude behavior.
They don’t serve wooter either.
Don’t order wooter. Trust me.
Just don’t order wooter.
I’m not sure why they don’t serve wooter but
Don’t even try to order kawfee.
They send you to the back of the line if you make a fuss about it.
There’s that Philly love.
Apparently, you’re full of it in the City of Brotherly Love.
That’s a joke.
It’s a wonder why you haven’t changed your slogan yet.
You let the world deal
With your god awful sports teams.
I’ve been waiting so long
For.
Freaking.
Championship.
You can’t even bring me that!
I’m begging you.
I’m pleading with you!
Oh, Philadelphia!
Just once.
That’s all I’m asking.
Just once can you act like you know what you’re doing?
But what do I know?
All I want to do is attend a parade.
All I want to do is shower in champagne.
All I want to do is riot in the streets with my fellow
Philadelphians.
All I want from you is to see the name Philadelphia Phillies as
World Champions
Up in lights before I die.
Why can’t you give me that?
Are you gonna further torture me as I sit back on the couch,
And watch you get beaten to a pulp over, and over again?
Pardon my French, but
Don’t fuck with me this year.
I’m telling you now Philadelphia,
Do
Not
Fuck
With
Me.
Oh, Philadelphia!
How I hate to love you.