Players

 

 

At sundown the boys are still on the asphalt court

Six or seven of them in tee-shirts and jeans

It’s forty degrees out, but the cold seems to free and empower them

Jackets are tossed on the mulch beside the court

And they fire one shot after another in the last of the day’s light

Heaving the colddead ball from their low position

Watching it sail through the netless rim

 

copyright 2016

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