Bourbon Street, New Orleans,

the night before the Chicago Bears

won the 1986 Super Bowl, 46-10

By Patrick T. Reardon


George could not suppress

his animal glee, eyes

filled with the sun of the

Bears, his blinding trip to

the mountain top, as, wife,

I hung on best I could


— he knew and I knew —


while, a day early, he ate

the bread and wine of

triumph-to-be, knowing a

sure thing when he saw it


— he knew and I knew —


and I hung on best I

could as my blood poisoned

and body emptied into air,

and George was goofy with

this rainbow bubble of delight,

joy as pure as untrod snow,

wanting to build tents for this

flash of light, and babbled his

giddiness to the tall reporter

who looked at me and saw


— he knew and I knew —


the two months to go before

my transubstantiation, and I

hung onto George for dear life.


Patrick T. Reardon


This poem originally appeared at The Write Launch on 8.3.22.

Written by : Patrick T. Reardon

For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is

One Comment

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