POETRY requires a mature audience ENTER only if you are 18+ |
JEAN HULL HERMAN
Observing Men at Play | the Rites of Racquetball; or,
My Bag's Bigger than Yours
On the gym track bright and early, 'fore the crowd was hot and surly,
Going 'round, I saw the gym bags, saw the floor five deep in gym bags,
Saw a plethora of gym bags and the men crowding 'round the court,
Waiting for their turn.
Puzzled, I lapped 'round the track and every time I rounded back,
There stood guys correctly got up, uniformly gym-clad dressed up,
Ready for their turn to step up, hit that little racquetball,
Ready for their turn.
Ostentatious bags by Reebok, Nike, E-Force, Black and Steinboch,
Bags that wouldn't make it through an airport's luggage check device,
Crammed with shirts and gloves and head scarves, shoes and laces bearing logos,
Ready for their turn.
Oh! the racquets! Each, superior. Pity the novice 'quipped inferior,
Novice brave in bright white sneakers, clean shirt, no gloves, simple shorts,
Novice thinking his bag, paper, straight from Sears, would sure suffice,
Ready for his turn.
One sweet specimen caught my eye – one man's racquet snared my eyes:
Twenty-two-inch-long string techno-marvel, quivering, ready, in its frame,
E-Force specially-molded carbon poised for owner's skillful strike
As he swept into his turn.
Though e-quipped manly cap á pie, this hero, strong of limb and eye
Swung his snappy 22-inch-long strings fiercely at the trophy ball,
Noisily slammed it 'gainst the glass walls, rammed it home against the tough glass,
Scoring with his turn.
There's a moral to this story: honor, manhood, love and glory
Are not found by slamming 'round some busy little tinted ball,
But in the size of one's equipment. Actually, it's all equipment,
Displayed at every turn.
|
POETRYREPAIRS 11.08: 094
|