Game On

May 20, 2008
The light on the porch flickers on and shines down
to the weathered patch of grass that is my home.

Sweat trickles down my forehead into my eyes as I
dribble my only love and glare at my only enemy.

Why are the toughest games
with silence and my shadow?

An owl boos in the pine tree behind the backboard and
a cricket barks orders from beside the garage.

I take a final glance at my
invisible opponent.


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