I look at the field; I look at the court;
      I look at the pool; I look at my bed;
and remember – when I was a player.

I look overhead as each plane ascends,
      and then I look out as mere children descend
towards the subway – with someplace to go.

I look at my drink alongside my butts;
      I look at my face – then wish I had not;
and I hear it:  how ‘prayer’ sounds like ‘player.’

I look at a girl; I look at my boy;
      I note how that girl then looks at my boy;
and remember – how I, too, was a player.

I look at my feet; I look at the sky;
      I look at my pen; I pull out a page;
and then wonder – if I’m still a player

© 2006 Russell Bittner   

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