I heard this all from the grapevine,
curiosity killed the cat…
so… seems unlikely that my dog killed your chickens
just give the poor dog a bone
it's pretty much genetics
all that nature versus nurture
even he makes mistakes…
let's let boys be boys
bygones be bygones
you should always love your neighbor
I know you eat chicken too
we can't be having the *** calling all the kettles black
you know what they say?
If you can't beat 'em,
                                          join 'em.

Playing pool at 5am,
see the sun rise and seep
between mouthfuls
of double choc-chip cookies,
Mountain Dew cooling our throats
like antifreeze into a car.
I gather up your laughter for rainy days,
everything dripping in colours
that haven’t been christened.
Your fingerprint wriggles
form an island chain on the piano,
wet symbols, bathroom carpet
where you got out the shower
in a sky-blue towel;
I hid under the bed.
I tell you you’re messing
with an amateur,
kisses are pleasant glitches
but I’d miss and trip
through the open window.
My hands become flappy utensils
when I explain years months days
of apple cores piled up
behind wardrobes,
my portfolio of fiascos.
Faults are found like Easter eggs -
squeezed from toothpaste tubes,
top shelf of the oven.
This is a dark one here,
a miniature pill.
You only bring mugs
of youthful exuberance to the table.
A click. A shlock.
I turn my head,
the game lost
within a blizzard of minutes.
It’s OK I say,
I wanted you to win.

Ozzie Smith, Yazstremski,

Dave Stieb and Robin Yount

these men were of a special group

It's one I'm proud to count

There's players who achieve a goal

While others just achieve

They set a standard for the rest

In their heart they just believe

The game is full of heroes

Men depended on each game

They all have certain attributes

And we all know them by name

Kaline, Ripken, and Wade Boggs

The Carters, Joe and Gary

They're men who inspire us

They have a reputation tough to carry

To be a man of character

You must be better than the rest

You have to be a leader

If you ***** up, you must confess

Baseball doesn't make you one

For character's within

You just learn how to channel it

Bring it out from where it's been

Now, Cobb, Ruth and McLain

Were characters as well

But, not the kind of characters

That we are here to tell

They had a reputation

One that is not lost upon the game

But, to say that they had character

Then you would not speak their names

Tom Seaver and Clemente

Thurmon Munson, Sparky too

Were men who set examples

Of exactly what to do

To build a reputation

One that shows character and heart

Is something time consuming

It's built of many parts

To do the right thing once

Is not the thing I want to see

But to do it right consistently

That defines character to me

There are so many examples

Of players in this group

But there are ten times as many

Who miss the homer with a bloop

Baseball brings it out in you

It doesn't put it there

You show what you are made of

By definition....to be fair

Williams, Maris, Dimaggio

Robinsons, Jackie and Frank

They played with an integrity

You could take it to the bank

If you want to be a winner

Please do this if you can

Be a man of character

Not a character of a man.
..

Rolling with my thunderstorms,
violet shifts to black
and you run ashore.

Capsized outside a theatre,
I wrench you out
from the starfish glob of mess
I made, blow the grit
off your forehead,
scrabble for a candle
we can re-light together.

One time, mud snatched
at your ankles.
You screamed but I was seeing
drains and reflections
twisted in puddles
like fuzzy lines on the old TV.
A migraine came;
I threw it up into the sink
and slept.

Lost count of the times
you've tossed me out
in the snow, garbage among
banana skins, frozen earlobes,
but who chucks a duvet
over my frost-flecked skin
but you,
with a clumsy smile
and mascara raining
down cheeks.
Every time.

Tonight I find you
in the evening fog
after searching
every subway station
my legs would allow.
My shins cry for rest.
The busker plays
Bob Dylan out of tune
but can’t blame a guy for trying.

You discover my eyes,
put your face to my coat,
mumble words like you have
a mouthful of ice.

Lookin’ for a friend?
The 11.04 towards
Borough Hall.
We get on, I catch your breath,
count the hundreds
and thousands of steps
to home.