An Invigorating Miss
Steaming sweat dripped down from his dense black hair.
It was nearly midnight, every bounce echoed
throughout the empty, spacious and clear gym.
The moon rose above like the shot he just took.
His legs, hard as titanium from the drills
he meticulously ran pulsed with every step.
Although the game was finished, the score in dim
gold pixels still showed in the overhead lights.
51-50, the score box described.
Under the eyes of God, he vowed to not fail.
He drove to the rim and took the fadeaway,
the same shot he took just three hours ago.
His partner set the screen for the winning drive,
only for him to slip on the fadeaway.
The ball flew flat, like his body on the ground,
now one with the polished maple wooden floor.
The huge zeroes on the clock still stared at him,
like the hollow eyes of T.J. Eckleburg.
Out of the ashes of his loss he would rise,
rise just like his arms on another jump shot.
Snapping the net almost instantly he smiled.
Just another chip on my bruised brown shoulders
he thought as he grabbed his basketball and left.
Lights of the gym started to fade one-by-one.
Under the swift cool air, he bounced the ball loud,
ready to live again and silence the crowd.