I remember recent memories
when my father and I
would play table tennis
our basement
muggy in summer
chilly and dry in winter
was home to epic battles
thrown paddles
and light plastic balls
flying through the air
with curving and diving delight.

I remember seeing in myself
much of what he left
when we played simple ping pong
when sweat was dripping
and emotions were flowing,
I saw the man I was to become
sometimes gasping for air
while moving in four feet circumference
sometimes yelling in victory and defeat,
I saw the man in my father,
and I wanted ever so
to see where we were in 20 years
playing table tennis at my house
in my muggy, cold, dry basement
alternating turns with my children
and still cursing under and over
breaths shared in table tennis memories.

06/24/2007

Posted on 06/24/2007
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