A pro bowler is not thought of as a precision performer
Laying a 16-pound ball in the exact same spot
Over and over again, as many as 300 times a day
Morning, afternoon and evening for weeks on end
Nor is he deemed a disciplined practitioner of his trade
His temperament even, with a mindset honed to forever
Look forward to the next frame, to the next challenge
No matter that the spare he just failed to pick up cost him dearly
His has not the cunning of a geometry-savvy billiards player
Who knows all the angles on every lane, the dips and
The curves, and even the effect of the temperature and
The barometric pressure on the way his ball will roll
He is not feted as a brave warrior, who subjects his rolling elbow
To incredible amounts of torque over the course of a career
Which can easily span three or more decades of battling tenpins...
No, he is just the man-child next door living out his youthful dreams
.
Thunderbolt!
Thunderclap!
Tonight,
somewhere above
the overcast sky,
the gods hold
an open bowling
tournament.
The earth
shudders, then
violently trembles
as gigantic balls
crash, roll and roar
overhead,
barreling noisily
down titanic
bowling alleys,
exploding, blasting
away at colossal
tenpins!
Thunderclap!
Thunderbolt!
.
Thunderbolt, thunderclap!
Tonight, somewhere above the overcast sky,
the gods hold an open bowling tournament;
the earth shudders, then violently trembles
as gigantic balls crash, roll and roar overhead,
barreling noisily down titanic bowling alleys,
exploding, blasting away at colossal tenpins!
Thunderclap, thunderbolt!
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