Wipe off the tears. Look ahead
What you see in front of you is beautiful
Behind you, a baseball field.
A field less than a mile before that.
More fields in the area of your back
And you are so far away from the
Pitcher’s mound that you are not only
Not on first base, you’re not even sitting out.
Not even looking at the game. You’ve
Turned your Back on it. All of it.
All the games behind you and ignoring any
That potentially lay before you.
You’re out. Benched by choice.
All the movies show baseball
As a game of passion, you’ve gotta
Take risks, and get hurt to win.
The Sandlot was playing on my flight
Over. The Babe telling Rodriguez in
His dream to just hop over the fence,
And get that ball. He was telling him
To be fearless, to believe in himself
Above what all of some supposed
11 year-old logic was telling him.
We only know as much as our experience
And even sometimes then we ignore
The lessons and the red flags. Sometimes
Faith will get you like that. Not unlike
Now, where I keep trying to move forward
But as more memories fade into the
Background, this ache brings up an angst
That makes me want to stay fresh in
His mind, make his love stay fresh on mine.
So how do I become a legend like The Jet?
“Heroes get remembered, but legends never die.”
How do I grant myself solid gold, trophy status
That sits on a shelf of his memories as
Something that he once had and will
Always think fondly of? In loosing a place
In his life, I feel like I lost a part of myself.
I never told him that I never wanted to kiss
Him. I let myself be won over because something
Felt karmic about this meeting. It wasn’t
Just that we became a union, it was a reunion.
In forfeiting the game, I forfeit this control.
I can only know that I am a legend.
I’ve hopped over enough fences, and
Dodged enough beasts to prove it.
Trophy status isn’t up to me.

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