PoetryAloud
John Blair Reads
Superman
In a green ski jacket and red earband
I dribble the basketball on concrete cracks. My numb ungloved hands slap slap cold leather resuscitating stale air inside. I shoot the ball… elongated in light shadows, it streaks toward night. Dad drives home in his two-tone green Chevrolet Belair 1955 with a silver-wing hood ornament and brilliant high-beam headlights that rake the dark and shoo cats into alley crevices. I pull up the garage door and watch him maneuver through the small opening with astonishing ease he discards the day’s residue newspapers, telephone messages, cigarette butts. Hi son, he acknowledges breezily motions with his hands for the ball and dribbles three times. As he jumps, his dark gray topcoat flows like a cape and the swirling blue ball elegantly swishes through strings. |
John Blair
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