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Friday, March 8, 2013

Ping Pong Poem

Even more, this passtime

Ping-pong has an amazing allure
I can’t stop wanting to get that hollow tap back
on my lollipop palm
I’m desperate to feel the immediate feedback
and to give my wit miraculously
to my challenger
I like the ambiguous loyalty across the net
My delight when making it hard for him
and glee when he returns it, empty egg, tap, to me
an ongoing dance.
I desire to win,
but more than that to keep playing.
There’s no limit except what
can be flipped back.
The rules bend
the table is not our end
of tossing back and forth
the oldest game, placebo, in the world.
I feel smart, elegant, equal,
hand up,
to hit


This poem was inspired by 

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