Stickhandling

My dirty-dangle moves
open the 5-hole of that goalie
so keep the ice Zamboni-smooth
I’m in the groove

It’s a hat trick night maybe
a fight can feel it
hook slash with my stick
I’m a no-look-trip kind of guy

Face-off slap shot check
from blue line to net I’m the gush
the one-man rush I chatter
the chiclets of any home team

Think I can’t saucer-pass
Think I can’t wraparound
Think I’m headed to the sin bin
Think again

That black flat rubber biscuit
mixed from a cold compressed mallet
waits for me to go coast to coast
and light the red light