april 15th

a poem about unbranded flying discs



at my high school
i attained a level of cool-
ness for a few fleet-
ing moments and my feet-
balling skills were limited
so im grateful to whoever initiated
tv coverage of the sport of ultimate
(dont say frizbee, its copyright)
leading to the sort of craze
that sweeps through schools for a very few days
those ultimate battles on a sunny school field
i was briefly prized for being marginally more skilled
at chucking a ten inch circle of plastic
and i was never picked last - it
was miraculous
and i still recall that buzz
every time i stand
on grass with disc in hand
and drill a perfect pass
flat and fast
or a long gentle sweeping bend
or hovereing tantalisingly above a friend
it really is typical of my luck that
one of the few things i dont suck at
is no longer much revered
respected or admired by peers