I'm Game
Sometimes, just walking,
I pass the old basketball court.
It's still there -
Battered and grimy,
And a tad worn perhaps,
But solidly, comfortingly,
Intact.
The kids play as they always have,
Yelling, swearing, sneering.
Dodging. Twisting. Dribbling.
And as I watch them through the
Rusty chain links -
A world away,
I remember...
And then I see myself again,
Seventeen and King of the Courts,
Shoes screeching as I drive down
My opponent, six feet ten and
Burlier than me.
I remember, and I feel once more
The ball in my hands,
The exhilaration in my heart,
And the burning desire to win in me.
At that moment,
I wanted nothing more -
Only, only to have the basket in front of me,
To shoot, and hear that silken swish -
Feel the flood of adrenaline;
The adulation of the crowds;
That seems to confirm,;
And tell the world,
YOU'VE DONE IT -
Scored a basket,
Turned the game.
But now no one cares
And no one feels.
The glory of my days is over,
And no one remembers.
Someone barges into me;
Hurries away without an apology,
And slowly, slowly,
The gleaming court vanishes,
And the crowd pours away.
The show is over;
None linger.
Save the soft creaking of the backboard
In the wind;
Residing over an empty court,
And a man,
Musing sadly into the growing shadows as the sun
Sets.
Quietly, regretfully,
I wonder whether it was all a dream,
And whether it could have really been.
The cell phone rings;
I pick it up,
Grasping my briefcase,
And walk away.