Poem Inspired by an NTL Weekend Camp

On The Occasion Of Playing Basketball
for Nine Hours in Two Days
One Week Before My Sixtieth Birthday

Being as sore as I was this morning is OK,
but if I were to elaborate on that just a little, I’d say
it’s like getting a voice-mail message

from a childhood friend who is evidently calling
from a noisy truckstop in the Midwest
and who is evidently drunk, saying that

some s**t has gone down, some bad s**t, actually:
that his mom sold her house and its contents
without having discussed it in advance

or even let him get his stuff,
including concert-ticket stubs tacked
to the bulletin board beside his door;

not to mention his original X-Box,
which admittedly is not compatible with
today’s games but for the love of god,

there were some great ones
that you cannot get anymore,
and simpler graphics are not necessarily worse graphics.

Would it have been such a burden to call your only son to say:
“Hey Granger, this is your mom. I’ve decided to move
to an assisted living facility, in Rockford”?

Arthur Russell, Nutley, NJ, NTL Camps (1993-2016 . . . ) “winner of the NTL Lakeside, Michigan Weekend Camp 2016 Baron Davis Award for Returning to the Game in Terrible Condition But With a Still Passable Handle.”