the brethren gathered round
after word had gotten out
dented ping pong *****
usually accepted the reality
of a dent and what it meant

no more ping ponging around
or getting flung around
at warp speed Chinese style

no more the thrill
of the short under-spin
or the super-wide side-spin
the kicker or the ghost serve
fast down the line

the hook serve
(Mirano and Ito) style
or the thrill
of just slightly grazing
the net ever so fleetingly
in a mad dash
to the corner
of the table

sure clipping the net
and going over
is considered to be
a faux pas
or in proper parlance
a let that serves no purpose
other than a let service

who knew it would all
be so transitory
so transactional
sure there was hope
the boiling frog scenario
that was possible
but not mid-game

the solution was more trouble
than it was worth
the core of a throwaway culture
is so embedded
that just reaching out
for a new three star
fresh out of the box
replacement with the bounce
and ****** only a virginal ball
could provide not unsurprisingly
so satisfyingly that who could resist

so as the brethren gathered round
and looked up at their forlorn brother
teetering on the edge of the table
they knew and felt the inevitability
another dent and there would be
no coming back

"Don't do it"
"Somebody get a net"
"Go for it"
"Boiling water will bring you back"

suddenly
as if in slow motion
the ball flung itself
over the edge

into the blackhole
of an uncontrolled freefall
of top-spins side-spins back-spins
under-spins back top-spins
reverse back-spins

there was some kind of tunnel
a rapidly approaching light at the end
a shiny bright and luminous light
it was getting closer and closer

the brethren scrambled
in a nanosecond
the reel had been loaded
its life flashed before it
on some kind of cosmic screen
then the put-away stroke
set over