Bulls Bard--The Verses
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Game 72

3/23/2015

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CHI 98               CHA 86

Late in the third, sleep fell over the entire game
and, simultaneously, everyone began to dream.

Jimmy
Dreams he is back home
In rural Texas.
Muddy clayed-down palette
Paints land forever.
A smell--a rhythm.
A weird welcome
For a cast-out king.

Joakim
From the sideline
Dreams of sunshine.
A lion at rest--still panting--hot.
Conserving its strength
For the hunt.

Kemba
Is a waterbug
Zipping low above a murky green pond--
Between rows of predators.
Finding a current
Effortless--
Air, itself

Thibs is a boy.
Not himself
But familiar.
Long ago--
Pre War.
He dreams here sometimes.
He has friends here--5 guys--
Like in the old movies
He grew up watching.

Taj sees balls
Of light
Expanding
Transforming
Into objects.
Objects become art
And art becomes stories--
Alive.
He is in the stories
Changing fast
Like the stroke of the brush.

All three referees
Dream they are zebras
Who think they are men.
Licking salt flats
In a busy wild.
Judgemental
Superior
In their supposed righteousness.

Big Al
Back in his hometown
Sees faces from his past.
Faces
He wishes
He could see tonight.
Faces
Now reserved
For dreamtime.

Stacey
Is inside
The Lumina 800.
He is Kevin Flynn
In Tron.
He is Neo
In The Matrix.
Every move
Every atom
Reimagined
By the Sky King.

And on.....
and on......
and on.....

The crowd, however,
Unaware
Continues watching.
All lost in our own little dreams.
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    Poet Laureate of the
    Chicago Bulls

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