I kiss football when Bergkamp brings
a high pass idly to foot and flicks
the obedient ball into a Leicester net.
Stars above the stadium spin.
I kiss football when Baggio glides
the length of Czech defensive lines.
He cuts inside, carresses home.
Touched by god, Italians dance.
I kiss football when Pele strokes
perfection into his captain’s path.
A blast! And all the world is won.
Flamenco and the samba drum.