On the street, a man bounces a basketball.
The sound's not different from that of chopping
wood. It stops when he shoots the ball at a
hoop. The sound from this is something
like a dull bell in fog. The man shouts--
he sounds like a seal. A car goes by
in a slow rush, air displaced largely.
The car's sound-system thumps--that
speakered pulse all of us are used to now.
The city's sounds fill in an audio backdrop.
That wood-chopping, basket-ball-on-
pavement sound continues. The man
is frenzied because the sun's out and
Winter's been so long this year. He's
furiously glad, pounds that gray pavement
with his orange, hand-held planet.
Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom