the sun is shining. i'm wearing one of those pathetic
tennis outfits. the
yuppie ones with a
white skirt and matching dorky
golf shirt. and
red sneakers. i'm walking along the thick white line against dark green background,
tightrope-style. looking down, i see the
fuzzy chartreuse ball. it's rolling back and forth lazily on the wet
ground. it doesn't belong here.stepping off my
line, and into the
monotonous green, i bounce the ball. once, twice. i catch it, toss it gently up into the air, and swing my racket.
fwoomp! it connects, right above my head, and then sails sleepily across
the net.
the ball's in your court now.
i don't want it anymore.
i don't want to go back to playing with the garage door, either.