Rookie of the Year

The rookie of the year is
Like icey cold Fanta fizz:
Effervescing bubbles stream-
Ing up through a sugar dream.

Strike; burn: he's peaceful and still.
Strike; burn: hellish escadrille.
Strike hard; strike heavy; strike fast.
What you have, your youth, won't last.

Clorox clean blue striped waste band
On white athletic shorts, and
Calf-length white compression socks.
Youth burns like a firebox.

Strike hard; strike heavy. Bones crunched,
Clipped: recover, counter punched:
Smashed bloody face. Wipes bone chips
From his eyes and soft red lips,

Lips meant for kissing, fitting-
Ly full, not meant for splitting.
Now he finds himself bloodied
Up and muddied up. He need-

S, he wants, to lap it up.
Hey, come on now, suck it up.
The rookie heeds all the rules:
Rhyme and seven syllables.

Like a spring fern unfurling,
The rookie yawns, uncurling
From bed. He stretches and then
Wham! He's on fire again!

Escadrille deviant smut?
Yeah, I think you better shut
That outdoor electrical
Socket cover. Ah, spectral,

Magical arterial
Spray makes him ethereal.
Strike; burn. Hold it very still.
Strike; burn. Love your escadrille.