Running Bases

I'd like to think
The Big Bang
put me here
but, very likely
it was an inside curve,
breaking late,
grazing my sleeve.
A free pass.
Still, there is some triumph
and full accountability
just being
on board.
There is a lead to measure,
options to study.

As I edge off first,
a hypervigilant first baseman,
the kind who lays a hard tag on you
even when there is no play,
slips in and away
like a wild card.

These moments are laced
with tiny motion,
calculation and shadow dance,
calibration and sleight of hand
pulse reading,
fugitive dust,
the pretense of indifference.

I am eye to eye
with a bullpen pitcher
who moves
at the speed of spit.
A smoke and junk throwing
son of a bitch
with a great and thunderous
move to first.

Above the stadium
a blue moon pushes
and pulls,
measures the tide; there is
a blue moon scowling at foul lines.

Standing perfectly still
has always been
the furthest
from my mind.

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