My Wall…

October 15, 2006 at 9:13 pm (Alameda, Unzipped Thoughts)

…is not really MY wall, but OUR wall. Long ago I named it “P.Floyd” [“…good morning worm, Your Honor… showing feelings of an almost human nature…”] We, the people of Alameda, keep our wall at Lower Washington Park adjacent to the tennis courts. Two or three times a week for the past fourteen years I’ve smacked P. Floyd repeatedly, hours at a time, with yellow spheres that go thwack as they ricochet off my trusty ‘Prince’ of a racquet. I’ve made use of Mr. Floyd to warm up for a match, instruct others, become instructed by others or more often than not just for exercise. Today, while dancing back and forth twixt fore and backhand, Frank blaring in my headphones to the words of Cole Porter [and, yes I do “…have you under my skin…”, as you well know, sweety], with the sun fighting the overcast and losing its battle, I thought of nothing or no one but you.

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