Breakpoint

It’s not about the game on the court,
But the tricks of the brain
At breakpoint.
It’s not the gait or the stroll,
But the mind’s eye
With control.
When you see through square holes,
The shuffling shoes,
Thoughtlessness roles.
When you see it distort,
The swings and serves,
Sorrowful joints.
You’ve reached the nerve
With each critical point,
Holding serve.
You’ve reached approbation
With no falling back,
Breaking fixation.