Thursday, September 20, 2018
BALL
most always did.
Countering tons of sheer American-Horseshit, neither place had any discernible effect on my character,
which alternated between timidity
and mindless brass.
and mindless brass.
My new First Baseman, JJ, stood for
no such alternation in himself!
Young Mr Perfect!
Soft, Super Polite, always the right words. I couldn’t be him to my shame, and
therefore couldn’t receive the neighborhood association
trophies he did.
trophies he did.
Following season, SURPRISINGLY, considerably less of a paragon at First Base. The Swarthy One!
WHERE’S JJ? Moved? I ask him.
Yeah, to Convalescence!
Total Nervous Breakdown! he went on,
and family has money.
What’s that? Total WHAT? ask I.
What you think it is.
Well...so...J Jreturns NEXT season.
Hairball departs.
Hairball departs.
Mr Perfect again at First Base!
Will he again go crazy?
Initial game back, extra innings
impinging twilight.
Becomes up to me to save it...ball
sharply bounding, I stretch, leap,
sharply bounding, I stretch, leap,
tumble in a cloud
of retching,
darkening dust.
darkening dust.
SOMEHOW in my glove! Hop up,
throw to J, not my usual rainbow
arc, though, a laser!
Hey! So I’m the Hero this time and
not him!
I see that stitched ball spinning
very softly now...
so so
many years past...
Bright
above
and shadowed
under…
traversing
pain.Labels: adolescence, anxiety, Baseball, fear
