The housewife rises to her full five-four and
helicopters her rally towel.
“Make my life have meaning,” she screams at the home team.
“Bring joy to the void.”

Her husband secures his BigBeer in its cup holder and                            He brings himself to his feet as well
but with less urgency.
He puts both hands to his face,
cupped into a megaphone.
“Nepenthe,” he bellows
like the name of the relief pitcher.
And again.
“Nepenthe!”
long and hollow.