O! To be a basketball. My orange flesh glistening neath gymnasium light. The roar of the crowd rising and falling as I flutter like jazz from boy to boy, girl to girl.
O! To be a basketball. To feel the caress of a young man at the peak of physical fitness. To have his large hands run across my body. The ecstasy of being a basketball.
O! To be a basketball. To be inflated with the sweet air pressurized by a small canon of carbon dioxide. To be round and plump like a Thanksgiving belly.
O! To be a basketball. To be complicit in both heartbreak and joy. To win one for the team or to disappoint the masses.
Raise the trophy! For it is I, the basketball, who did help you receive it.