Kids are out playing street hockey.
Orange pucks are flying around.
One kid’s bigger than the others.
Ray I think his name is,
because all the kids on the sidelines
are shouting, “Shoot it Ray!”
or “Thump him Ray!”
But Ray neither shoots nor thumps.
One whack of his blade
against that flying puck
and he could drive it into somebody’s face,
smash his nose.
An elbow into an opponent’s midriff
and who knows how many ribs would bust.
So he makes gentle passes.
He holds up at the point of a collision.
Ray’s grown so fast,
he refuses to occupy his body.