the legend of trish the swish

trish in red wig and sequinning silver leggings
that throw the light off them onto the ceiling
we hello-hug/reunionize in karma living room
it’s almost like it’s my birthday i say getting
to see you in that red wig and shining things

the bees are bringing in pollen
for your birthday stan gives
the first-signs-of-spring bee report

it’s not sour joe says of
the injera he folds into quarters and
sets on a plate on the table
where we feast on
greens, ber ber (miser wat) red lentils and
mustardy brown lentils followed
by the most extravagant
from scratch
key lime rich smooth pie

polished smooth and dangling
the earrings that joe made in trish’s ears
featuring a cross section of bone
from the deer trish killed this year

echoing off gymnasium walls:
the bounce of basketballs as we warm up
traveling net to net and
MIA bumping in the background and
as the game starts: the mini pep band playing
in three parts: joseph on sax, tyler on trombone and
baigz on trumpet
louie louie is of course
in the rotation

TRISH THE SWISH i call out
after she in her sequinned jersey
makes a rim-less basket
amidst the chaos
and i, in my glittery 27star jersey
yelping and hollering and
bee-lining down the court
pivoting and aiming and passing
to my delight’s content

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