THE LUCKY
BOUNCE
Jake
Looking up toward the sky.
The orange ring
hangs ten feet off the ground.
White net sways in the breeze.
Mom hands me the ball.
Says, “Happy sixth birthday."
I pull off the blue bow
and start dribbling.
Moment of truth.
Standing before the basket,
gathering all my strength,
tossing up my first shot.
The ball sails
under the hoop,
under the net,
and bounces off the back pole.
It rolls past Dad,
through my outstretched arms,
down the driveway,
directly into Adam and his dad
as they walk by.
Adam brings back the ball.
Our dads lower the hoop
and we play two-on-two,
boys against dads.
High fives
with every shot we make.
Every steal we take.
We beat our dads
We can conquer the world.
That day,
under the hoop,
Adam and I make a pact--
teammates always,
straight through to
the NBA.
HERO OR
JESTER
Adam
Hanging outside school.
Parking lot
after the game
rewinding those final seconds
performing my one man reenactment:
Ball passed to me at the point.
Jorganson breaks for the hoop.
Clear passing lane.
He catches the ball high.
Slams it home.
Everyone laughs at my rendition
of his wacky victory dance--
head bobbing,
limbs flailing,
desperately searching for rhythm.
Celebration
crashes in an instant.
Sound of crushing metal
rips through our eardrums.
Why no shriek of skidding tires?
No horn?
No warning?
My body shifts to automatic,
runs toward the screams.
Didn't it get the memo?
Off-court I’m the jester,
not the knight
in shining armor.
My eyes widen.
Half a block ahead
tiny blue car
T-boned by a giant pickup,
steam rising
like a dragon standing over
its prey.
Truck driver
stumbles out in front of me.
I catch the evil stench--
alcohol on his breath.
mixed with
a steaming radiator
I peer in the car window,
From the passenger side.
Slumped over the wheel
red hair
matted
streaked with redder blood
I know Ali's face
from math tutoring last year
and because
Jake's wanted to get with her
since freshman year.
I reach through the broken window
pull open the locked door.
Ali -- motionless.
An occasional whimper
the only sign of life.
I thrust the seat back
struggle to free her pinned body
but what is the smell?
A broken bottle of
Eau de Math Geek Cologne?
No, wrong time for a joke.
Hero mode.
Concentrate.
Then as I pull her free
I know the real answer,
too late.
The smell--gasoline.
OUTCAST
Jake
Trying to hang with Adam
and varsity, after the game.
Standing on the fringe
feeling invisible
until the school rent-a-cop
walks up to me
and suggests
we all head for home
like someone on JV
has anything
to say about it.
I keep wondering
how did I wind up on Junior Varsity?
Did I play it too safe?
That’s what Adam said.
I say it’s the new kid’s fault,
Jorganson.
I keep hoping
he’ll fail a class,
break a leg,
or go back where he came from
and give back my spot on varsity
where players have names
other than #45 or you.
That's when I hear it.
Metal to metal destruction
followed by eerie silence
and then by screams.
Adam takes off running.
His motivation?
No clue,
but we follow,
slowed by the crowd
filling in his wake.
Red lights flashing in the distance
sirens growing louder.
I swallow hard as I recognize
Ali's car.
Could it be a different blue Focus?
Then I see
the crumpled license plate,
“PI DAY”,
In honor of her birthday
March 14th.
A crowd stands watching
cell phones at their ears
or pointed to snap pictures.
A lone person
is trying to help
I push by a couple varsity guys
and start toward the car.
Jorganson grabs my shoulder,
hard.
“Don't you smell the...”
The explosion smothers his words.
SERENITY
Ali
A strange serenity surrounds me
Wind against my face
Combing through my hair
Strong arms wrapped around me
Nestling me
Guiding my flight.
If only I could always be
Lois Lane.
Adam already is--
"Superman."
Copyright © 2023 by James Danielson
All rights reserved.
