Sometimes bandwagons come out of thin air.
It’s not the same when pyramids are there.
It’s easier to jump on when they must
Make themselves known, approaching through thick dust.
The faster they rise, the more people climb
Aboard them. But I’m unwilling to board.
Bandwagon-hoppers might not be abhorred
But still they are mocked. It’s easy to not
Follow teams. “They’ve got…I dunno, let’s think.
Um…that one guy. And Mr. …whatshisface?”
The team, I didn’t follow. Yet last year
What little I’d hear drove me to tune in.
It wasn’t about whether they would win
But avoiding anticlimax. To fall
After rising all that way, just to sink?
That wouldn’t do. And then came …whatshisface.
For stories end. Things all work out for good
Just as stories should. But what happens then?
The bandwagon rode on to ’09/’10.
The game continues when the story’s done.
You strive and you run for an hour and
A half–but even then there’s nothing planned.
There’s time beyond what works out nice and neat.
There’s time for defeat. And nobody knows
What’s next. There’s no route the bandwagon goes.
Some will leave, though some very well may stay
For more scriptless play. Honor those who dared
To climb, to fall–but never say I cared.