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The kid next door is shooting hoops
A rubber ball rising
Above the fence line and falling
Fail, fail, fail, succeed
The backboard rocks
Like an old man trying to remember something
My toast grows cold from watching
I imagine that if I had super powers
I could will the ball to net at every try
Just for the squeals of elation
The dog running round and round and round
In circles and barking
They took the father again last night
The kitchen window is hushed in conversation
Word, word, silence and a word
Hard cement and rubber ball bouncing
Has such a distinctive sound
Clenched air pushing
Shooting for cracks in the sphere
Sound is just the air inside us
Trying to make sense
Or so I hear
