Rivulets:  Prose Poetry for Our Times
    
From the back, not from the beginning.  So that the writing might be 
a hollow victory at best. 
I'll tell of ping pong in a shopping mall in Atlanta 
yesterday.  Relationships ebb and flow:  But is the satisfaction
in the having maintained, or in the
establishing?   A matter of chemistry? (high school? body?) 
"Write, write, write (like a tomato)." -- Erica Jong
The parentheses are mine (Sayeth the Lord).  That hollowness comes
creeping back and again 
borderline-sleep imagery of water in shallow
trails, bulging drops in the lead, searching for its own level, like so
many bloodhound noses out front.   
Or maybe water flowing down hill 
is the better metaphor for relationships 
after a point.  In the mall there were two table tennis
combatants --  As the emptiness returns such that blues music 
and The Wall have personal meaning again --  One an in-his-prime 
Caucasian of 3 decades, fewer or more.  The other 
a 54-ish lithe Indian-American: gentlemanly, greying on the 
sides.  The match was tied at 
1 game each.  The younger fellow attacking and the elder
Indian-American-originally-from-Africa playing quality defense, stroke
after stroke after stroke.  The analogy fit.  Points were enjoyable
to watch.  Back and forth; sometimes 
the strength of the attack crashed over the rocks of the 
defense, other times the driving smashes broke upon
the rocky returns and fell away.  
At some time there became a woman
standing next to me, long brown hair and enough heft that she wasn't
likely to be mistaken for a spokes-model. No makeup.  A pleasant face;
an Irish heritage, maybe.  Jeans, sweatshirt, worn
sneakers and a growing enthusiasm for the contest in front of us.  Back
and forth; drive, drive, drive; stroke, stroke, stroke.  POUNCE!  A
counter-attack from the Indian and the ball was gone.  Amid the applause
of the crowd she stated, "He does have teeth."  I reflected rather on 
the rivulets of sweat finding the least resistant path down 
the older gentleman's cheeks, and on the effort it took 
to stay in the game while looking for 
a way to balance the relationship, in good sport.

  -- Chip Patton, circa 1990

(Volunteer Cup Table Tennis League era, Thomas Nunes was the defender; I
 believe Larry Thoman was the other player.)