The Ball, the Rim and Him

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More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Joy
Wonder
Imagination

Submitted: November 21, 2010

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Submitted: November 21, 2010

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The ball, The rim, and him
 Shh! Do you hear that? That…ball….bouncing on asphalt…. ringing in the emptiness…. Of a small court…. Somewhere…. near hear. One boy. one ball. one dream. one hoop. Shh! Listen. Slowly stepping up to foul line. Eyeing metal rim whose orange paint had chipped or faded years ago. Eyeing hoop then ball then ball then hoop. Then aim, extend, small jump, release. And the ball flows through the air defying gravity nearing the rim annnnnd he scores! Take it from the top key, around his back, through his legs, without a glance, behind his back, pass to his man on the side. His man run down the court, takes the ball to the left, takes the ball to the right, sees him out of the corner of his eyes then pass. Touching the ball like an ancient relic of Africa. He hears voices of legends before him speaking his name saying: Join us! Join us in the sky! Like superman does! Like a plane does! One-step, two-step, Up-up, double bump. Slam. Hanging on the rim. Looking down on mere mortals. Here the rim’s orange is shiny and new. Here were fallen street-ballers. Hiding the drugs they sold or used. Higher than high school A’s or F’s. Here were Jordan, King James, Shaq, and Kid. Here the complexities of life were all made simple. Here it’s all about the ball, the rim, and him. And then, and then, and then. And then, with a little bit of reluctance he let’s go of this small circular piece of Olympia. He let’s go. And falls back to us. The un-understanding masses. Who have never heard of the goat, or the boogeyman except for sports-illustrated or watched on HBO. So we don’t know. We don’t know what it feels like to fly with the God’s then walk the streets with Demons. But weather he’s crossing over robbers on the ground or killing naysayers in the air. None of that matters. None of that! Just the ball, the rim, and him. Shhh! Do you hear that? Ball…..bouncing on asphalt…ringing in the emptiness….of a small court…somewhere…near here. One boy. one ball. one dream. one hoop. Shhh! Listen as an artist learns his trade.
 


© Copyright 2020 Al Letson. All rights reserved.

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