Three boys shooting hoops on the school playground.
It could be spring or fall, but it's summer. Nets for tennis
have been stretched, cutting the basketball courts in half.
There are no other kids around. Two of the boys are eleven,
one is twelve. The chain net rattles with each successful shot.
The backboard, on banked shots, has a metallic reverb.
The basketball has unique sounds as it is dribbled or rimmed
or hits the backboard. There are the boys voices. It is
warm enough not to wear jackets, not warm enough for skins.
Three more boys come, younger by a year in terms of grade.
From a distance the younger boys taunt the older boys.
Eventually the six boys confront each other and fight.
One boy has the buttons ripped off of his button-down shirt.
Other than that, there isn't a lot of damage. Some blood.
Poetry by jim
Read 75 times
Written on 2019-11-26 at 18:15
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