Doomed to lose once again before the tip had soared
The Knicks found shots in clutch and stops enough to win
Melo kept his flame aloft and beasted bold the boards
While Earl’s late game hoists turned cheers and jeers to dins
Wesbtrook’s feats nearly fell a late game lead and streak
While the thin one’s flails could have won the tilt in throws
Instead, Atlantic’s crown is ours by early week
As we rest easy knowing Kendrick Perkins blows
Blazing pace and scorching hands marked the afternoon
With threes rained down to the tune of twenty-four
Long stretches seemed a farce, a basketball cartoon
With defense less an effort than feet staid to floor
Early on the Thunder struck, a noble end seemed joined
But Kidd’s first quarter hits helped slice the lead to one
Even early fouls could not keep the Knicks from points
A nine point lead at half, SHIT WE’RE HAVING FUN!
Cough-ups caused the foes to start the third ablaze
Another gear the Thunder found, but hey, nice try!
How I loathe Russ’s smugness, let me count the ways
Collison’s blood could likely make a Kleenex cry
Late the Bockers won by taking back the trenches
Nineteen OREBs on the day, nine by Melo’s strength
While New York held down the battle of the benches
Kidd’s head, Earl’s touch, and Copeland’s driving length
Shump slinked, Pablo panicked, and Novak hit a pair
While Reggie Jackson’s driving kept the contest close
Kevin Martin’s hoists all the day rang true and fair
And Derek Fisher’s flesh rot flopped into the nose
But the day swung again to Melo’s golden touch
A mix of distant silk and point blank brawn the way
And when the silent whistles failed to irk him much
Resolve and focus met in time to seize the day
Poise, smarts, cool and strength – each is owed a nod and due
The defense still needs mending, many holes remain
And we can’t have sole Melo to carry forth the crew
Still, a win like this leaves little room to complain
A dozen now and counting on this dream-like streak
With a mere six tilts left before the true tests starts
A lovelier time we could scarce have picked to peak
Team in sync, offense taut, and Melo tossing darts
Who knows if June arrives to find us one of two?
If Boston’s banners cast us into early shade?
If April’s magic, like November’s, falls to blues?
Or our dreams die by the hands of ‘Bron, Bosh and Wade?
What we know is this is roundball joy, roundball bliss
That fifty hasn’t happened since Slick Willy’s reign
That only two Knick squads have strung more wins than this
That this year’s coaster makes Linsanity seem sane