TENNIS ANYONE?

       

    I envy them.
        I watch them serve, receive.
        The forehand, backspin, smash,
            each smacked with care.
            Except to rest or
            stopping to retrieve,
        the volley rhythm
            builds between the pair.
        Engaging conflict
            would be a delight.
    I stare and wait.
        My racquet arm is sore
            from bouncing balls
            against my guts
                strung tight.    
        The mystery to me
            is how to score.
    More couples come.
        I shift and scratch.
            Pretending my approach, my slice,
        I pray to find a mate and
        maybe meet my match.
    I don't have to win.
        I need to play.
            It's just a game and
            I should to be a sport.
    Guess love means zero
        on and off the court.

 

 

Reviews

[TLK]

The last two lines are very amusing.