Down at the paddle tennis courts, Gino,
A daily presence softly manages.
He trains males and shapely girls, swift and slow—
Teaching, while minimizing damages.
The other day he pointed out to me,
With pride, his new court shoes, stunning blue, pure
(His sober features arch, suffused with glee)—
Not navy, teal—but blazing bright azure!
Festooned with scores of patterned holes, those sneaks,
Though heavenly, portend athletic threat—
Those holes, however cute, prevent foul reek
By venting fumes, evaporating sweat.
He flexed, he pranced, displayed uncommon stride,
And fashion’s pinnacle—laces untied!
(6/29/11)