by Leroy V. Quintana
This was the world of white lines， a game
unlike any other， where the object was to win，
only you used words like "Please"
if your aim ended up improperly
in the next court， "Thank you" when
the ball was returned and "Love"
after you scored first.
Yours was the name that survived
the hatred only California can inspire，
strong enough to be etched in fire
on tennis rackets redeemed
by thrifty mothers who built a life
on S&H Green Stamps a dish，
a dish， a lamp， an ashtray at a time.
——Leroy V. Quintana
This was the world of white lines， a game
unlike any other， where the object was to win，
only you used words like "Please"
if your aim ended up improperly
in the next court， "Thank you" when
the ball was returned and "Love"
after you scored first.
Yours was the name that survived
the hatred only California can inspire，
strong enough to be etched in fire
on tennis rackets redeemed
by thrifty mothers who built a life
on S&H Green Stamps a dish，
a dish， a lamp， an ashtray at a time.
——Leroy V. Quintana