Reading John Cheever During Monday Night Football

Somebody is always settling the score. On the terrace, before and after dinner—drinks, the air rich with assignation. Ruse and calumny come later. For now, the radio deals out Schubert—winsome arpeggios sober in the tilt of a shifting struggle. Brute force is the shy, smiling neighbor attendant to your spouse. Potatoes go unpeeled. Remember, no one is safe. Domestic cartography is an idle guide, clouding the night with stars. Guileless and wild, the spiral dividing the air is just a ball.