We climbed over the stonewall
and landed on the other side
at exactly the same time,
and with absolutely no sound.
Something didn’t want us here.
It was only 20 feet of sparsely littered
birch and maple saplings,
but still, something didn’t want us here.
One could tell.
I think it was the buzzing in the distance,
like the buzzing of a heat lamp
or something, that made me think this,
I couldn’t tell.
But something didn’t want us here.
Mr. Woodard, my basketball coach
took the first few steps toward the castle,
which floated in the distance
like the snout of an alligator.
Mr. Woodard,
why did you bring the ball? I said.
Shoosh, he said, or its ten laps.
Pat, his son, and my best friend,
pump-faked a maple
and then spun around once
before D-ing up on a birch who showed
some pretty impressive ball handling.
the real subject is always you 