Madison Square Garden
The Knicks are playing the Heat
Latrell Sprewell makes a flagrant
But it’s a mistake
He didn’t mean it
The ref doesn’t care if he meant it, blows his whistle and right when Sprewell’s about 2
Lose
It
tug his jersey away from him
Get
Out
My
Face
This little kid walks onto the court
Rolls up the half-court line like a ribbon
its thick in his hand
He puts it in his pocket
Then all the cracks on the court, pulls them up like a big spiderman web
The wood has no lines anymore
Someone drops an ice-cream on their Dad’s open-toed sandal
The kid wants to say something to us
He walks in the center
but we’re cheering way too loud