I have driven in fast, <br />bunching up with them in the keyhole, <br />tripping, crowding, drawing fouls; <br />sliding away on my back <br />and thanking the academy. <br />Now I will shoot from outside, <br />arcing my hopes toward the rafters, <br />for a wayward, breathless moment <br />while squeaking soles stop, <br />and eyes wrestle <br />an inevitable curve.<br /><br />Gary Witt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whoosh/
