I circle back around the court,

And stare at my cold-blooded enemy. 

This fight has room for one,

Me, myself, and I. 

The sun shines beats down on my back, 

Wind rustles against my perspiring forehead. 

The trees swaying naturally,

Like the oohs and ahhs of a zealous crowd. 

I spin around and dance,

Like the greats before me. 

I go to my sweet spot, 

This is my kitchen, my grill. 

I plant my feet and soar, 

All in one, fluid motion.

The basketball flows off my fingers,

Eager to reach its desired target. 

The aim looks perfect, 

Straight as an arrow. 

The arc is breathtaking, 

Reaching for the sky. 

Gravity does its job, 

The basketball descends.

The shot, this glorious shot… 

Is an airball. 

Gravity works too well at times.