While performing some minor edits on “Spring Break in Omaha” on September 2, 2009, Martin came up with a couple of ideas for our next poem:
– Twitty City (in Henderson TN) – Conway Twitty’s graceland before it became the home of the christian trinity broadcast network..
– Wash. D.C. – they do adult kickball league on the mall with uniforms (companies/government teams) – we could have two intelligence organizations get involved in a kickball war…
The second idea especially appealed to John, so Martin did some research on the kickball league and sent his partner some links on September 7.
After celebrating our first joint acceptance, “Bee Lust in Manhattan” by Bryant Literary Review, we got down to work on “Kickball on the Washington Mall” (AKA “Lucky #13,” our thirteenth collaboration) on September 11. Martin kicked us off with the following sentence:
The NSA Nukes could not believe the arrogance
of the Agency Argonauts trotting in minutes before
the championship match, not after the scandal
over the tampered ball, rocket propelled from remote
control, blew off the thumb of the umpire so that
no one could be gestured out at the plate.
Or did John write the last two lines? Sometimes, as in the world of espionage, the question of who has done what grows murky. John definitely wrote the last lines, as we wrapped up this particular game on September 14, but Martin revised them. So if the last lines are revealed to contain encoded classified material, which of us will end up in federal prison? Are prisoners at Guantanamo Bay allowed to play kickball?