Number three, two years into high school
Sharing the couch with number five,
A loving pit bull who’s curled into a tight ball.
Outside, the golden hour has arrived,
A bright sun, the emerging green bathing in its warmth,
For the first time today, a blue sky.
Yet, the open air still preaches caution,
Unseen germs lurking in every breath,
Every cough, every sneeze.
Control for dogs or students
Collars and lanyards
The Big Dipper was tired
He was worn from the road,
Banging with those big bodies
And crunching into tiny airplane seats.
The Lakers had beaten the Bulls
Only by one, a win is a win,
But the season was long
And the charter to Philly was waiting.
Only the plane was not ready
And the players waited for three hours
Before another one taxied to the gate.
Finally, it was time to go.
But Wilt needed a break,
So he blurted out
That he had a gun in his bag
And could shoot someone.
The comment was a throwaway
That even then brought the FBI who
Put Wilt on a different airline
For his return to Philly.