But it's Friday now! Damn Fridays.
The Dunk
I was coming home from school
When this dude who looked so cool
Said "You look like a mighty fool!
Let's play some basketball!"
I'll suffer not this injured pride
His challenge could not be denied,
His b-ball jersey named him "Clyde"
On mine was printed "Gil."
So I laced up my hoopin' shoes
and promised Clyde that he would lose
Instisted he: "Bitch, you're confused!
I'll take you straight to school!"
Suffice to say the game was hot
We matched each other shot for shot.
But in the end all was for naught
When Clyde unleashed The Dunk.
He juked me right and then went left
His movements catlike, slick and deft.
My weak side rendered me bereft
Of means to stop The Dunk.
I'd received the rizzle-razzle
Left me on my heels befrazzled
Lost, and dizzy, dazed and dazzled
A victim of The Dunk.
The shriek of rending steel bespoke
Of all the might Clyde's dunk evoked
And when I saw the rim had broke
I learned to fear The Dunk.
The sound of loss rang in my ears.
Clyde's moves had made real all my fears
My skills, my moves were second-tier
When matched against The Dunk.
The game was over, I had lost
Into the garbage bin I tossed
My hoopin' shoes, my dreams. What cost,
What fee The Dunk had charged!
whew. friday morning poetry is going down the chutes...no more b-ball poems, i promise.
posted by dan @ 10:36 AM
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