The burning heat of the silver sun,
diffused by the turning blades
of the exhaust fan,
slowly evolved in her eyes.
Sparkling beads
of sweat like gemstones,
they formed in soft trickles,
sweet projectiles
of salty droplets spin in wide circles
as she turned.
Titanium racket in hand,
air blade series, slightly used,
procured second-hand.
A slight twist in the grip,
leg muscles strained,
Yonex squeaking innocence,
eyebrows sweat malevolence
elbow pointed towards
the spinning fistful of feathers.
T’was a passing shot.
Backswing. Anticipating, disregarding
the frozen expectation of the anxious.
Back squarely to the net,
arm extended to the moon
as the racket gently kissed
the bird’s ruffled feathers,
and the clock struck twelve.
The cock shuttles crisply back,
in seemingly retrograde motion,
massaging the muffled emotion
of the animated crowd.
Barely clearing the white tape,
in a great cross-court netscape.
Gravity did the rest.
With winged anticipation,
and bravado made of raw hide,
I took the chance,
a cowboy dance:
two steps and a skip
I reached the net,
ready to return the favor,
with a tropical flavor
of a hairpin counter.
A little wrist motion,
and the carbon graphite weapon
did the rest.
The bird went up
like a cowboy’s accent,
and fell
like a cheating accountant.
A parabolic wonder.
But only right after losing
a lonesome fragment of plume.
I got you now.
I began to smile,
Moustache and lips
fully extending to the side,
breaking wide,
purporting to be decent
like a crescent
moon in a starless night,
accented only by
my squinting eyes.
Instantaneously I began to imagine,
the whistling wind
In the Grand Canyon;
the dusty streets
of an old mining town;
the smoking gun
of the Unforgiven,
spitting lead to end
a gunfighter’s life.
But I was startled just a second after
by the swiftness that the bird returned,
rushing blindly back in a blink,
like an ashen pheasant chased
by a ghost rider in the sky.
I saw nothing but the sun in her eyes,
and a flash of lightning.
All became quiet.
Not a sound was heard.
And the outcome of the duel
between the meanest gunslingers,
in gum-sole shoes.
Was the highlight of the evening news.
