Kobe smiling

I had a dream 
in which I played 
Kobe one-on-one. 
King’s Court –
one shot only.
He lets me start.
I back him down
on the post, pull
a dream shake,
use my body
to make space,
go left hand 
off the backboard.
That’s the thing 
I love about basketball.
And dreams.
Anyone can score
at any time.
I back him down again, 
right post this time.
turn to the inside,
roll back to the left,
fake the fadeaway,
then up and under
with the right.
Bucket.
It’s not the first time
I’ve played someone
6’5” or 6’7”.
I’m not afraid.
It's all about fundamentals. 
Okay then, Kobe says,
and passes me the rock,
gets low.
I go left again,
spin and cross the key,
put up a shot.
Blocked.
Kobe shoots; scores.
He sets up again 
at the top of the court.
Without hesitation,
shoots a three.
I can’t stop that! 
You afraid? I say, 
Meet me on the block! 
So he does,
200 pounds pushing 
200 pounds down low;
I give him a shove or two –
hand, forearm, chest.
He makes his move,
fakes inside.
I know he’ll spin back –
I’m ready for it, 
smack my hand downward,
strip the ball and
turn and shoot. 
Kobe! 
I turn to look at him,
and first he looks angry,
then incredulous.
He shakes his head: 
Old Man Mamba, 
he says,
and smiles.