This is it, right, the  major leagues
Big crowd, No tee
I was never good at sports
I think it’s because I was always afraid
The ball would hit me in the face
But that’s what it does-life, right?-it hits you in the face
How can you know how wonderful it is
Unless your hands are open to catch it?

But my shoes were always untied
and my mit didn’t fit right
and I bumbled in right field like a
blind honey bee
Buzzing in my own world
My own thoughts
I would look up at the sky and
wonder who was up there
swimming in the great blue
upside down pool

****

I was hit by the ball
Reality knows when to dig her claws
“Baker, what the hell are you doing”
Brought back to the team by
The red faced coach who couldn’t
kick me out of the little league
What good are dreams anyway?
The thoughts that float up to outer space
There’s no air in outerspace
To breathe
So what good are my dreams
That go to die
If I could tie a tether to the thoughts
That spill out  from my temples
And hold on to them like balloons
Maybe they could do some good
But in trying to anchor the ascending
I’ll end up floating away myself

Wouldn’t it be better if I cut the tethers
And just played the game
The man up there swimming
Will keep on swimming
He doesn’t care if I stop to say hello