Batter Up.

Heckled and tired, taking swings with crooked bats.

"Yo battah yo battah yo battah, suwinnng battah!"

This mantra chiming through my weary mind over

and over until it's nothing but a chorus of overused

cliches. I heard it in a movie, forgive me.

The ball is rude and the pitcher has something

against me, I swear it, I heard that in the locker

room. Gossip and chuckling and feckless

glances. What's in my mind, I swear.

I tell myself it's OK to strike out, hit dirt,

dive hard, scuff knees, die on the mound.

The ego expects a win and the audience

must not be disappointed.

A swing, a miss, a wish and a hope

unspoken and unused. Some balls

just aren't meant to be played with.