frozen peas

you place a bag
of frozen peas under your right
eye where an errant
elbow struck you in a game
of pick up
hoops at your neighborhood
black top court.
it's a nice little mouse,
blue and grey,
fat on the cheek bone.
no blood, no splitting of skin,
no broken bones,
just a welt, a friendly
reminder of how
fragile we are, win or lose.
you embellish the story,
say how high you were
in the air,
going up to snatch a ball
or throw it down
into the chained rim
with a resounding growl,
you make up a story saying how
someone swung and missed
the ball striking you.
when the peas get warm,
you grab the carrots,
and place that bag firmly
upon your face. the Asian
medley is next.