If Lakers Are Poetry, What Are the Clippers?

I adjust the rabbit ears on my portable black and white.

I sit back and watch.

A picture perfect pass from Magic Johnson.

A vintage skyhook from Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, followed by the inevitable:

Lakers win,

Lakers win,

Lakers win.

I should be elated, but somehow I fell empty inside.

I glance down and notice a pasta stain on my brand new white shirt. My shoes have come untied again.

Alone in my room, it suddenly hits me.

I shudder.

Oh my, I miss the Clippers.

STEPHEN FELDMAN

Los Angeles