Side Hustle (the fake I do when I should be paying attention at library board)

Enthusiasm precedes you

and your empathy is like a force field

not to be contained, fizzing forward

by celebratory champagne

flutes of the sauce

bubbling over as they’re tossed

back

schnookered on the written word.

 

Drawing me in with your

easy speaking

debutante haunts

bouncing balls down the halls

fans with their chants

onlookers, inside trades

dropping hints

betting against the house

knowledge of the

game, thrown

from the truss, under the bus

forty feet to the street.

 

Bounce with the flounce

rolling to a stop

as the meeting begins

and the grafitti,

backboards, and hoops without nets

shoot your street game

and net you in.

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