Hoopless

I used to have hoop.  Lots of hoop.  Some days it meant everything.

It was sunshine and fog, hawks circling high above and small birds commenting from the trees.  It got my damn arms over my head.  And I made a lot of shots.  Dribble penetration, driving layups, jump shots (sort of), finger rolls, rainbows, 3 pointers, scoop shots, floaters.  A lot of shots.

Now hoop is gone.  What the big wind at Christmas didn't blow askew, was separated by rusty joints and corroded screws.  Just enough so that there was no hope for hoop.

There is no hoop at all now.  The last of it was taken away.  I feel hoopless, and you know why?  Because I am.

I blame Obama.  He talked all the time about hoop, and I gave him enough money over two elections to buy a new hoop and even re-pave the court (cracks in the pavement where tufts of grass alter the dribble.)  Now there is no money and no hoop.  He still emails me every other day.  But that doesn't give me hoop.

Now there's only memory of hoop, in this hoopless world.