Poet in the Post: Bob McAdoo

Bob McAdoo,

give anything to be a mac like you.

Heat up easy as cheese.

Pull up an easy bake oven

good enough for a baker's dozen.

Dance through the lane

like thoughts through the brain.

Dreams roll off finger tips

and linger like wooden ships

off white sails and through nets.

Saw your jersey for sale.

Tried to win it in a bet.

Simple arithmetic 1 + 1 always equals two.

Bob McAdoo run the floor like a wave to the shore.

Drop step sick like a throat with strep

leaves opponents to scrub the deck,

even Jack Ramsey raises fists

like he just got free from a list.

Amen. ATM. Open all night.

Glow like a LiteBrite.

Out of sight from repression and depression;

a proclamation against the oppression

of always having to assume the position,

not a four nor a five,

just a reason to stay alive

and never die like a Buffalo in slow mo.

Bob McAdoo,

wish I didn't have to know you through YouTube.