The point guard
not laughing it up
with his teammates
at a contrived table for twelve
looks through a girl
and out a window
to the lone cloud
in the bluest sky.
He ignores
his green chile cheeseburger
while his eyes trace
the Sandia ridge
and his mind formulates
how to get up there.
It is impossible to say
why he is not engaged
with the victory celebration
of a basketball game
that propelled his team
to the state finals
and, for a change,
I invent no Maybes.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 