Unlike Mike C A L E B L E W I S , B R YA N T U N I V E R S I T Y
We lost time while heat simmered on the blacktop. Our hands stunk of warm rubber still sticky from slushies and candy from the convenience store down the block. The big kids lowered the hoops With a timeworn screwdriver. So when we jumped we felt like pros. We knew, when we grew up we’d do it without lowering the hoop. We knew. But now we’ve aged the best of us weren’t good enough while the worst of us feigned sprains and fractures to pretend that fate was at fault. Dreaming about what could’ve been. Now just a hollow echo of who we once were— Like the distant sound of a ball bouncing In a vacant schoolyard.
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B R YA N T L I T E R A R Y R E V I E W
