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I remember
being four feet tall
feeling the ball in my hands
trying
to drive on you,
all six feet of you,
in the lane.
I remember
you posting up
like it was an NBA
All Star Game
and my charge
backfiring
causing me to fall
skinning my knees.
And I remember,
the rain pouring down
outside
where I insisted
that we come
thirteen years later,
dribbling softly,
driving hard,
knocking you down,
dropping the ball,
and walking away...
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Senior year. My Creative Writing Class, My teacher would have loved you. He made us write poetry about sports. http://www.hostboard.com/ubb/smile.gif
