Old Athlete.

Evans, David Allan

Old Athlete

   When he picks up a branch in his backyard
   after a storm, and it's thick enough to grip
   with both hands, it's now a vaulting pole--
   ash become aluminum, then Swedish steel,
   then fiberglass. He looks up at a telephone wire,
   now a crossbar, framed by blue sky ...
   after lunch, on his daily walk, when he steps
   on a crack on a sidewalk, he hasn't broken
   his mother's back but hit his marker with
   good timing, building up speed down the runway.

   When he walks upstairs to his living room,
   he leans forward, as if he's about to take
   two or three stadium steps at a time
   to get in shape for football ... when he's
   watching a long run on TV, he's ready
   to stiff-arm a linebacker or defensive back
   just before he crossing mid-field,
   or the chalk of the goal line.

   When he's sitting at his desk,
   he crumples a piece of paper into a ball,
   then aims and tosses it into a waste basket
   about six feet away--sinking
   the winning shot at the buzzer.

   When he takes off his glasses while reading,
   and touches his forehead, he's just
   taken off his sweat-soaked headband after
   a two-hour workout in a Shotokan dojo.

   When he meets a man for the first time,
   he shakes his hand and smiles,
   having just finished, or started,
   a racquetball match.