Past

the muse of destruction is named Cleveland
and this offseason we summon her like
we did on December 16, ’01
(look it up it’s called Bottlegate) like we
did on July 4 ’74 (look
it up it’s called 10 Cent Beer Night). We ask
her to descend upon us as she has
every few weeks since always (look it
up it’s called The River Caught Fire look
it up it’s called the Mayor’s Hair Caught Fire
look it up it’s called Red Right 88
look it up it’s called The Cavs in The 70s
look it up it’s called Art Modell Moved us
to Baltimore look it up it’s called That
Video Of The Dude Pissing On Art
Modell’s Grave look it up it’s called
The Hough Riots look it up it’s called
Lebron James Left look it up it’s called
Harvey Pekar died the same week look
it up it’s called Excessive Force look it up
it’s called Federal Probe look it up it’s called
consent decree look them up their names are
Timothy Russell and Malissa Williams
look him up his name is Tamir Rice
look it up it’s called It’s Okay They Like
Our Restaurants Now look it up in the New
York Times Travel Section look it up on my
Uncle’s Facebook page it’s called 17 Reasons
Cleveland Doesn’t Actually Suck).

Present

An eval from an English 101
student asks “why do you talk so much
about the Browns?” to which I say,
“what else is there?”

Future

The damn banner, our jinx, unfurls over
the pre-game hands of the finals fans:
There’s always this year, it reads. Nope. Next year.
There’s always next year. There’s always the Browns
will go 10-6 next year. There’s always
the Indians. There’s always Corey Kluber.
There’s always D-Wade’s dad wearing
a Cavs shirt. There’s always hey JR Smith
is good now. There’s always the Orchestra.
There’s always the Republican Convention.
There’s always Michael Symon. There’s always
bike-friendly pedestrian-friendly
millennial-friendly. There’s always new
hotels. There’s always the new Public Square
redevelopment. There’s always at least
we’re not Detroit. There’s always the US
News & World Report hospital rankings.
There’s always Cleveland. There’s always next year
There’s always next year. There’s always next year.

 

Photo by Erik Drost