The night is thick with a new vocabulary. Our voices bounce strange words to each other, "deuce" and "love" confusing the quiet air. In this cooling world of court and line, we are partners alone in a new way, struck by the exactness of green rectangles. We could be the only people on earth. A net apart, we dance to the buzzing of spotlights and the night-sweaty rhythm of our breathing. Fireflies flash between forehands and backhands as our arms dream of steady, strong strokes and our rackets call thwop, thwop to each other. The ball, a spinning planet, yours, then quickly mine, hurtles toward destination, as if there never was a choice.
Nina Riggs