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THREE POINTS
Folder:
2003 Poetry
I remember the skimpy shorts,
the kneepads, socks pulled
up to the knees. Feet, gaining
solid ingrown due to adidas’s
tautness. And of course,
the jersey, which can reveal
the burly torso of the good-looking
man within.
Only one ball in the court—
bouncing, passing from one hand
to another. I can hear the speaker
on his usual pronouncement of
“last two minutes”. It echoes,
there were too many hands
grabbing the ball. He stretched
out those hands to convoy his
high leap. The ball rolled over
the rim and crossed the threshold.
And there, the three points
Just made them bag the game.
Ah yes, heart-pounding.
I will remember that
