If Lakers Are Poetry, What Are the Clippers?
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I adjust the rabbit ears on my portable black and white.
I sit back and watch.
A picture perfect pass from Magic Johnson.
A vintage skyhook from Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, followed by the inevitable:
Lakers win,
Lakers win,
Lakers win.
I should be elated, but somehow I fell empty inside.
I glance down and notice a pasta stain on my brand new white shirt. My shoes have come untied again.
Alone in my room, it suddenly hits me.
I shudder.
Oh my, I miss the Clippers.
STEPHEN FELDMAN
Los Angeles
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