Jeu De Paume, Anyone? Iii Poem by Morgan Michaels

You had to rent shoes and balls, there were no exceptions, except for people who were frequent bowlers and had their own. From the stacks I chose one that seemed awfully heavy, but reasoned extra weight might provide extra clout and so knock down more pins than a lighter. It seemed right. Then Diotima chose. Her fingers seemed to fit everything she tried- a fact she attributed, mysteriously, to 'flexibility.' She finally made a selection based, sensibly, on appearance alone. The ball she chose was blue, semi-translucent and marbled like a cake. Balls are sized like shoes or hats. There is a seven and 1/4, an eight, and so on. We lugged ours to an alley near the end, where there was privacy, and set them on a rubber-lined track. The game began. Every desk was equipped with a bag of sawdust, which you could sprinkle on the floorboards. In this way, one set the 'slide' factor. I sprinkled enough sawdust for a dance floor and, winding up, rolled my first shot. Deflected by sawdust, the ball skidded into the gutter. A second followed its lead.

Diotima watched....