On September Sundays
navigating a pickup truck
from the Great Temple
Nolan Ryan built
to Jerry Jones’ billion-dollar
Mother Ship down the street
can require up to an hour,
a ritual rich with aromas—
burning charcoal, crackling
grease, hot links, sizzling beef—
incense of tailgate sacraments
on a strip of holy real estate
where Big Boy Games
are not mere sports,
but a fanatically rabid religion,
war hymns and all.
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