When I banged boards back in center-scary school,
The coaching pervert there
Had put forth the proposition
That you can get the winning score through prayer. . .
Will make you a more good player.
He's putting his mitts down there.

"You cannot pet wit' me, so outta there!"

This game can be sanguinary
If on the parquet you slide;
Its grain will braise your hide.

Not soft, floor of gymnasium--
You'll find it will make you sore
When landing on those boards.

Pesters me, skinny jerk, boxed me out badly.
Championship now looks out of reach, sadly.
From the floor, my brays:
"Hey, ref, he traveled?!"
I hear a "tweet." He'd whistled 'cause I'd cavilled.
Blah, blah. . . .

He says, "Don't flap your gums, or I will
Eject you. I suggest you chill!"

Aright, you drone.

Cat's a gnome
We're not home. . .
Visiting team, so I moan.

"Carrying the ball. . .double-dribbling!"

Feet in shoes are quite bruised;
Leather ball is much abused.
I dunk. . .don't punch. . .I'd love to.

(I'd fought a little, as a kid.)

I fake left, dart right, but I trip.
Slip and trip. My skin's flayed, red and bright--
Pretty bad bump, lump.
And the crowd has a hearty laugh. Numbskulls!

Success is still quite far away;
Everything rests on next play.
Center's feet trip me; he say:
"Welcome to the 'soft' parquet."

This jive nettles me; I rave,
"Dipsh*t, you're a shallow knave!"
The ref lets him get away
With this bad defense. I race
To the ref and screech more brays.
He plays deaf and off sashays.

Shmuck!

The "soft" parquet has made me glum--
Hit it with extended thumb.
Creepy ref is playing dumb;
Broken is my left
Thumb; next: middle right. Ouch!

Cheer women in skimpy dress--
Girls who jeer at my distress.
"Kiss my ass!" I yell, then the refs
Eject me from the floor.
My finger flies upright.
"Ref, you bite!"

The lights are getting dimmer.
I'm dazed. . .unholy groaning.
Calling to the doc:
"Where are pills and booze--anodynes;
I need something, pard,
From medical larder.
Please prescribe pain pills,
Dude, you dunderhead!"

Tonic opioids, tonic pleasures:
I want something to make me smile, feel greater.
"Give me something or I'll punch you. . ."
But a belt I no can do.

Callin' for the drugs,
Squallin' for the drugs:
"Get 'em from the larder!"

Callin' for the drugs,
Squallin' for the drugs,
Callin' to the guards:
"Last call from the bar?"

Guard
"They're gonna beat us!"

Forward:
"Too late; game's ceased."

Doc:
"Take a few anodynes."

"Oh, the doc spoke--that's great."

Doc:
"Ball games are hard,
But the floor is harder.
Which finger is broke?"

Center:
"We've been defeated,
So we're goin', we're goin' shamed.
Soon we'll have left town."

Tonic opioids, tonic pleasures. . .
Having a good time.

Coach:
"Time to move along."

Coach words don't hit hard;
He's a mild orator.

Ouch! Hurts! I feel shitty.

Center:
"Dude, here, try this here pill
That's blue, lovely blue.
I feel swell; it gets me through."

"Give another one.
And another one."

Tonic opioids, tonic pleasures. . .
The drive home is gonna be fun.

When all else fails,
Hell, we can horse-tranquilize.
After that, we. . .can fly.