I look at the field; I look at the court;
I look at the pool; I look at my bed;
and remember – when I was a player.
I look overhead as each plane ascends,
and then I look out as mere children descend
towards the subway – with someplace to go.
I look at my drink alongside my butts;
I look at my face – then wish I had not;
and I hear it: how ‘prayer’ sounds like ‘player.’
I look at a girl; I look at my boy;
I note how that girl then looks at my boy;
and remember – how I, too, was a player.
I look at my feet; I look at the sky;
I look at my pen; I pull out a page;
and then wonder – if I’m still a player
© 2006 Russell Bittner