Time Traveling in Indiana

(content warning, for suggestive violence)

Reggie Miller pushed off. 

Look, I'm not saying he wouldn't have
Made the shot, or
Even gotten free without the aid of a
Shove in the ribs,
But he did & he rose & he fired
& he landed & he hit
& he ran & he turned & he 
Turned & he turned & 
He turned &

I fell apart. 

Into ribbons in my black
& red Chicago Bulls away alternate,
I sobbed underneath the dark brown canopy of my bedroom desk.
Someone then, 15
Will in decades-future tell me, 5
That I do not remember.

I squeeze my eyes shut into that not-quite-red darkness,
Trying to remember Jordan’s points per game
Or who won all-star game MVP that year but they’re right:
All I can remember is that no one went to replay;
There was no last 2 minute report;
We all saw a small violence, a fundamental unfairness
& jubilantly neglected it.

Reggie, not quite Michael;
Not-quite-the-scorer,
Not-quite-the-defender,
Not-quite-the-symbol of pure, uncut success
Was heralded in Indiana, and what I do remember
Is how my parents would warn my brother and I to avoid
Virginias &
Indianas, because they have a history of cheering to watch
Black folks turn &
Turn & turn &
Turn & turn &
Turn in place, until
They’re not quite at all.

I bet from the nosebleed seats at Market Square Arena
You couldn’t even see Reggie’s face.