janae johnson
& here’s why i didn’t f*** with love & basketball
when it came out in theaters
there always gotta be a love story
bout some boy
who never had the patience
to make up his mind
so instead of flippin a coin
agrees to play one-on-one
on an empty court
without a soul in sight to tell em
nigga, you traveled
& there always gotta be a scene
at a dinner table
food, too salty to swallow
after the word lesbian spits from monicas mouth
into her mother's eyes
her sister nostril-laughs her drink
but careful not to spill
or steal the show
& i observe monica’s face
hoping she flinches
hoping no one would dare
misname themselves this
on purpose
& all of me yearned for the alternate ending
with cleo from set it off
arriving at the family’s front porch
a stolen blue oldsmobile in the driveway
proposes to monica on both knees
while spinning a wilson basketball on her index finger
& the closing credits commence
with whitney houston’s my love is your love
instead
monica easily fits into an elastic dress
announces her sculpted quads
as new characters
at the prom
& that's fine
but one time
i jumped in a swimming pool
with baggy nike swim trunks
a boy yelled ______
his teeth grinned shut
sun hid behind the sharp ‘k’
the water, cold enough
for me to drown freezing
& there always gotta be an actress
blemishless and eventoned
who probably hired a costume designer
to make em look like they produce sweat
probably only wears sports bras when jogging
probably only learned to dribble in preparation for the film
& one week after love & basketball premiered
i was asked to dance at a middle school party
by a light-skinned boy with lint in his hair
black overalls with one strap loosely draped
over his wrinkled white t-shirt
flirted with all of my friends
smiled with his entire cheeks
before letting me know
he didn’t feel sorry for me
(he said this aloud)
& against my best instinct
i gently rescued his outstretched hand
pretended he was a redheaded girl named vanessa
our bodies slow danced
like the cover art of monica & quincy
holding the basketball above their shoulders
except our lips do not touch
except i flinch
no one notices
& this naive boy
didn’t even make the roster that year
yet his friends thought
this was my happy ending
when it came out in theaters
there always gotta be a love story
bout some boy
who never had the patience
to make up his mind
so instead of flippin a coin
agrees to play one-on-one
on an empty court
without a soul in sight to tell em
nigga, you traveled
& there always gotta be a scene
at a dinner table
food, too salty to swallow
after the word lesbian spits from monicas mouth
into her mother's eyes
her sister nostril-laughs her drink
but careful not to spill
or steal the show
& i observe monica’s face
hoping she flinches
hoping no one would dare
misname themselves this
on purpose
& all of me yearned for the alternate ending
with cleo from set it off
arriving at the family’s front porch
a stolen blue oldsmobile in the driveway
proposes to monica on both knees
while spinning a wilson basketball on her index finger
& the closing credits commence
with whitney houston’s my love is your love
instead
monica easily fits into an elastic dress
announces her sculpted quads
as new characters
at the prom
& that's fine
but one time
i jumped in a swimming pool
with baggy nike swim trunks
a boy yelled ______
his teeth grinned shut
sun hid behind the sharp ‘k’
the water, cold enough
for me to drown freezing
& there always gotta be an actress
blemishless and eventoned
who probably hired a costume designer
to make em look like they produce sweat
probably only wears sports bras when jogging
probably only learned to dribble in preparation for the film
& one week after love & basketball premiered
i was asked to dance at a middle school party
by a light-skinned boy with lint in his hair
black overalls with one strap loosely draped
over his wrinkled white t-shirt
flirted with all of my friends
smiled with his entire cheeks
before letting me know
he didn’t feel sorry for me
(he said this aloud)
& against my best instinct
i gently rescued his outstretched hand
pretended he was a redheaded girl named vanessa
our bodies slow danced
like the cover art of monica & quincy
holding the basketball above their shoulders
except our lips do not touch
except i flinch
no one notices
& this naive boy
didn’t even make the roster that year
yet his friends thought
this was my happy ending
Janae Johnson is a writer, performer, educator, and curator. She is a Women of the World Poetry Slam Champion, National Poetry Slam Champion, and a Write Bloody Book Award Finalist. Janae is a founder of two nationally recognized poetry venues and her work has appeared in outlets and stages such as such as ESPN, PBS Newshour, Lenny Says, SF Jazz, Button Poetry and Kinfolks: A Journal of Black Expression, and Button Poetry.