Highschool Romance

They march right past us never seeing,
never wavering the line they take.
Their steps echo through the ground.
We ignore them.
They do not exist as we capture lips with heated strokes.

We hear the cheer of roaring thunder
as fans jump to their feet,
rooting for their favorite player to score the winning point.
We ignore them.
They do not exist as we send caresses across hidden flesh.

The feet begin to trample,
left,
right,
left,
right.
We ignore them.
They do not exist as we begin to release barriers of cloth.

Bleachers are our blessings.
Behind them we hide.
Behind them we tarry and play.
The band plays, too.
The players score.
The fans scream and shout Victory!
Underneath them all,
we ignore them.
They do not exist as we too, claim the Victory
and
score.