A Sporting Chance

When I was dating Blackwell, I sent her a funny limerick about stuttering one day. It wasn’t much, just something I threw together to make her smile. This is the conversation that followed. 

In the email, I’d written a sonnet. Only took me an hour. EAT THAT WORDSWORTH. Of course, er, his were a bit better.

This is the sonnet I wrote. I guess the only thing you have to know is that Blackwell was really into sports. And I’m not. 

A Sporting Chance

Two young lovers with nothing in common,
At least on the face of it, so it seems,
But while sporting trivia can be a turn on;
What’s important is all behind the scenes.
For in the shadow places no-one sees,
In the tar darkness beneath the silk sheets,
All that matters is the slick touch and feel,
And the hot angry bites that feel like treats.
They stand apart but will unite by vow,
These two hands they move to be together,
Though distance separates them for now,
It will not separate them forever.

So can a geek and a jock become one?
I think you could argue, already done.