The Holy Land
Directly off of Granville St.,
Sunlight filtrates through the speckled backboards,
white string teeth.
These beings sit without activity awaiting their associate.
Inside a closed fence,
hidden from all the impurities that mean nothing.
Shorts, Jordan?s, and T?s,
they prepare to be enlightened.
All is quiet,
except for the rhythmic bouncing of the round deity.
The beings awaken and stand at attention,
as if called by the drill sergeant.
Ready to reunite with their Allah
The leather god is released into the thin air,
rotating as if attracted to its dearest friend.
One of the disciples throws the now delighted object back to his friend
Only to be done again