Replay Sunday

Your cleat marks dry along the porch Like clay from Friday night

I scrubbed the turf from seven jerseys Underneath the kitchen light

Your dad stood leaning by the truck Keys jangling in his hand

Still measuring each yard you gained Across the frozen sand

The bleachers cleared an hour ago

We're still sitting on row three

Holding on to

cold coffee cups

Watching what used to be

We remember every whistle,

every bruise

Every four-yard dive we couldn't lose

From the peewee grass to the senior banner torn Every muddy knee

in the autumn storm We remember every step across the line (yeah)

He held the camera till his fingers froze Framing number fifty-four

I kept the orange slices cold Behind the sideline door

Now your shoulder pads sit in the hall Quiet like a museum

piece

And your father stares into the yard Waiting for the roar to

cease

It wasn't just the touchdowns or the ring

It was eighteen autumns rushing by on wings Two parents in the

pickup driving slow Not ready for the boy we love to go (ooh)

We remember every whistle,

every bruise

Every fourth-down stand we couldn't lose

From the peewee grass to the empty field tonight Walking hand in

hand beneath the shut-down light We remember every step across the line

(every single time) Still got grass stains on our winter coats Still

hear the marching band in our throats We remember everything (hummmm)