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                                                 HEY CREAMBALL
                                               by Mal J. Daniel III

    What�s happening girl?
    Still creaming the boys in the gym?

    Oooooooooooooo,
    pouts Creamball.

    Not now, Creamball
    I�ve got to grade exams.

    Creamball,
    in her six foot nakedness,

    squeegees into her raincoat,
    slithers outside in the February mist;

    shoots the orange pill
    in an olive drab London Fog.

    Her hair matches the ball;
    her eyes, the raincoat.

    Shooting foul shots,
    she often sings.

    Teenage boys peer
    through the back yard fence.

    Mud smudges Creamball�s
    long freckled legs.

    She works on �post-ups�
    and �tip-ins�.

    North Carolina 
    is a great basketball state.


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Hey Creamball is copyright 1998 by Mal J. Daniel III
    

poem18