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.