Apr 2018
When I think of days gone by
I never quite remember
The nights spent fast asleep
The youthful dreams of both thrill and terror
My remembrance is of an awakening
Playing basketball and dreaming of a league
The name of which I did not full understand
Because I thought NBA was a dictionary word
That had its roots in people before us
It was noun, verb, adjective, and adverb in one flick of the tongue.
Noun as in NBA
Verb as in to NBA
Adjective as in NBA player
Adverb as in NBA likes
See I was paying attention in English class after all.
Other’s thoughts of drinking from hoses did not appeal
Because the high rise was my portion.
The water fountain would suffice for me.
Running races and coming in last
So I would race against the shadows hoping first would be my turn.
Drinking juices that seemed to be lab experiments
Which had different recipes of water, food coloring and sugar.
They said it would make us hyper
I would have to agree
Because after a morning stuck inside in class
I could not wait to go outside.
They called it recess
But I did not get why playing had to have a name.
Because I just called it ball.
Later when I played sports in school
And my age was double-figured
I still did not understand why playing had to be organized.
I still called it ball
Sometimes we would put a broken crate over a tree
And shoot the basketball into it.
Then stare with blank faces at parents
When they told us they played netball in our native land.
Over here it is just ball, mom.
Where I was we used to play 50.
So imagine my surprise when I tried out
And realized they did not count a basket as 5 points
I did protest, vigorously
Saying this is my chance, Coach.
For every shot I make to be kindergarten aged.
Because the rest of the other kids have more threes in their nature
Then a class full of preschoolers going to the Bronx zoo.
So their class outnumbers my class.
My coach did not get my point.
I did not get the point, either.
Because it was hard for me to make foul shots like them too.
My coach murmured to me, They just have more class, period.
Eventually the nights leave
And the day goes by.
My fantasy has come true.
Sort of.
I am on a NBA basketball court.
About to make a free throw.
But this is not a game.
They told me it was complimentary with the ticket.
Did not matter what happened.
Or how I got this opportunity.
I said to myself, This is not a game.
That was why I practiced this morning.
So I shot the ball
And hit my cap when I shot
I feared I would miss.
I knew I should have taken it off.
But I was relieved when it went in.
What it proved was not as important as what I did.
More nights go on trips not to be seen again.
And more days walk by
They become the memories of a photo album
And the times I start talking about by saying
When I comb back black hair
When I brush the grey
Even if I touch a head unburdened by hair strands
Because the divine no longer needs to number them
I will tell my children
I will speak of it to my grandchildren through the haze of age.
I knew a simpler time
My youth was good.
I never quite remember
The nights spent fast asleep
The youthful dreams of both thrill and terror
My remembrance is of an awakening
Playing basketball and dreaming of a league
The name of which I did not full understand
Because I thought NBA was a dictionary word
That had its roots in people before us
It was noun, verb, adjective, and adverb in one flick of the tongue.
Noun as in NBA
Verb as in to NBA
Adjective as in NBA player
Adverb as in NBA likes
See I was paying attention in English class after all.
Other’s thoughts of drinking from hoses did not appeal
Because the high rise was my portion.
The water fountain would suffice for me.
Running races and coming in last
So I would race against the shadows hoping first would be my turn.
Drinking juices that seemed to be lab experiments
Which had different recipes of water, food coloring and sugar.
They said it would make us hyper
I would have to agree
Because after a morning stuck inside in class
I could not wait to go outside.
They called it recess
But I did not get why playing had to have a name.
Because I just called it ball.
Later when I played sports in school
And my age was double-figured
I still did not understand why playing had to be organized.
I still called it ball
Sometimes we would put a broken crate over a tree
And shoot the basketball into it.
Then stare with blank faces at parents
When they told us they played netball in our native land.
Over here it is just ball, mom.
Where I was we used to play 50.
So imagine my surprise when I tried out
And realized they did not count a basket as 5 points
I did protest, vigorously
Saying this is my chance, Coach.
For every shot I make to be kindergarten aged.
Because the rest of the other kids have more threes in their nature
Then a class full of preschoolers going to the Bronx zoo.
So their class outnumbers my class.
My coach did not get my point.
I did not get the point, either.
Because it was hard for me to make foul shots like them too.
My coach murmured to me, They just have more class, period.
Eventually the nights leave
And the day goes by.
My fantasy has come true.
Sort of.
I am on a NBA basketball court.
About to make a free throw.
But this is not a game.
They told me it was complimentary with the ticket.
Did not matter what happened.
Or how I got this opportunity.
I said to myself, This is not a game.
That was why I practiced this morning.
So I shot the ball
And hit my cap when I shot
I feared I would miss.
I knew I should have taken it off.
But I was relieved when it went in.
What it proved was not as important as what I did.
More nights go on trips not to be seen again.
And more days walk by
They become the memories of a photo album
And the times I start talking about by saying
When I comb back black hair
When I brush the grey
Even if I touch a head unburdened by hair strands
Because the divine no longer needs to number them
I will tell my children
I will speak of it to my grandchildren through the haze of age.
I knew a simpler time
My youth was good.
