rim

Basketball dreams, shot into a hoop, she shoots, she scores. Rim hit on a snare drum, wooden sticks smack hard and crash on waiting cymbals. The edge of a barrel, a round enclosed space, where I will duck and hide and wait to be found. Free throw from the three point line, reggae music catching me off guard with every stoned head nod. Arthur Rimbaud. A car with large hubcaps, bouncing down the street, an Escalade coming out of a time machine. It is white with black flame decals. Shocks. Slam dunk taking it to the hoop. Space Jam memories mesh with nostalgic daydreams of a seven-year-old. Drum set. Cacophony. Getting started on this drum roll. The build, the hit, the pause.

Author: Roe

29. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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