the game

we were gym
rats
playground
fixtures
on any sunny day
cold
or warm
we were out there
pounding
the pavement with
the ball.
balding sneakers,
split fingers
from the cold.
the wind pushing
against us,
the beautiful sound
of
the clink of the metal
net
when true aim was found.
the gravel
below our feet
all seasons
were good
as long as snow
or ice
or rain
didn't deter us.
junkies
for hoops.
and then the lights
would go
on
and we'd get one
more game, one
more game in
before going home.