having broken up
with yet another agent

this time before we made much
of a go of it

I’m at peace today
with the truth that very likely
I’ll never hit a literary
grand slam

such success appears meant
for those with something
innate I don’t have

for 20+ years
I envied such folk & did all I could
to join them

but either the bases weren’t loaded
or the pitches weren’t fat

as a result I’ve become more

of a contact hitter

rarely if ever trying
to clear any fences

just doing what I can
to see the ball

making the best
decision per pitch

padding the average
with whatever it takes:
infield singles

surprise bunts

a walk to keep them honest

occasionally smacking one just
inside the chalk the opposite way

then putting the old
wheels in gear to reach
second

maybe even making it
all the way to third

where I’ll slide a bit too far for the sake
of drama

take my time
to see I’m called safe

then again
stand still

hanging my
head as my flingers slap fresh


dirt off my knees & the echo
of the ball meeting my bat’s
sweet spot rests in the ear

of some kid in the bleachers
who might think: damn

that’s what
this sport’s about