1987 Basketball Hero

I shoot baskets like no one is watching. No one is
watching, except me, dream of youth, of future stardom, of
current stardom. Driveway hero of every game, concrete cracks
little lines where I place my sneakers, then heave up shot after
shot toward the red rim, its gravity like a sun, my sun, basketball
that sphere of influence. Minutes become an hour, become time itself.
Stand here, move there, under the hoop, arms and legs
leaping toward the sky.

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