the game

the ball bounces
in a direction you don't see
coming. it flies
off the rim,
out of bounds.
it keeps rolling, we
chase it.
we follow it to where
it's going.
we run all day, into
night.
down the streets
and alleys.
we were young when we
started,
but now our legs are
tired, our hair
brushed with grey.
our lungs breathe heavy.
we keep after it.