DRAKE CAUGHT LINT ROLLING PANTS COURTSIDE at RAPTORS / NETS PLAYOFF GAME
Bob Costas pulls the Bob Costas mask
over his head. This is done in the privacy
of a high security dressing room lit
with black candles. No one is certain
what Bob Costas really looks like, if
“Bob Costas” is, in fact, his real name.
This mystery of our times is relegated
to low-traffic blogs when Drake produces
a lint roller. The scene is on the Jumbotron
and Bob Costas throws his hands up
in a type of I-dodged-a-hashtag prayer.
“Drake? What are you doing?” he says.
I’m standing on a cliff of sedimentary rock,
looking down on my namesake river.
Wait. I should back up a little. I’m talking
metaphors here. The cliff is my chair
which took not thousands of years to make
like a cliff, but a week or two in Pennsylvania.
The namesake river is my team (all the good
basketball metaphors are spoken for).
You could say I’m on the edge of my seat
and you would not be far from the truth,
which is due for a comeback. Basketball
has never lied to me—not like a baseball-
shaped cookie that tastes like ice hockey:
a missing tooth, blood, used skates.
I meander to the kitchen, nod
at my chewed up copy of the Sonnets,
through which all 14-line poems
are possible & at whose composition
I’ve failed. Drake has never failed
at anything, he is like Shakespeare
in this way. Hold on, we’re going
to write a song for the Heatseekers Chart,
Drake says. Hold on, I’m going
to write 27 poems about being a total loser
and in love, Shakespeare says. I return
to the game and there is no game
happening. There’s the shot of the shot
of the shot of Drake accomplishing
a goal, putting all of us to shame.
NATE LOGAN was born and raised in Indianapolis, IN. His work has appeared in Forklift, Ohio, Ghostwriters of Delphi, and Ninth Letter among others. He's a contributor to _____ On Sports and chief editor of Spooky Girlfriend Press.