ping pong, under certain conditions

there are special rules
for special players
and special games

a wing tip
a flipper
both double up
as paddles with which
to strike the ball
each
is painted to highlight
the sweet spot

waddling legs
are enabled

a tail that propels
its player
into his preferred position
is equalised

the dull green
table surface
has been white-lined
and ruled up
according to
interstellar standard

suspended in the ether

~

game on

the dolphin
spins his serve viciously
a slide on the diagonal
skimming
just above the net

dart forward
the duck
sharp slice
to forecourt left

cross-court the dolphin
a little high
perhaps

smash
smash
the duck
without mercy
pounds the celluloid ball

eludes the dolphin
who cannot make his ground
a flipper flashing
through the nothing
at nothing
the ball is gone

the players
as one
watch the parabolic curve
and relentless trajectory
of their ping pong ball
arcing through space
descending
into the maelstrom swirl
of darkness
below

a last ray of light reflects
orange
then the ball
is swallowed

down

and down

~

quack

said the duck

there goes
another one

eck-eck-eck
eck-eck-eck

came the reply

you win that set

let’s start
a new game 

you
can serve first


© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #22: just finishing up now

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