Bounce, bounce,  bounce.
Sneakers squeaking along the smooth and shiny, wooden floor.
The scent of buttery popcorn and greasy pizza drifts through the gym.
Proud parents and anxious siblings fill the huge bleachers.
These are all the things I can see,
Through my black stripes and orange, leather skin.
I see the cold sweat running down the nervous players’ faces.
I feel their clammy palms grope across my scaley skin.
I hear the hearts of everyone pounding out of their chest,
as the ref blows his whistle.
I hit the backboard and swish into the basket.
The colors of the players’ skin no longer matter,
for basketball is colorblind.

I am basketball,
the ball that makes and crushes all dreams.