When I was a kid
You didn’t hear much about nicks and tweaks
Or pulled six packs
You heard about polio
You heard about the iron lung and the vaccine
You lined up for the vaccine
Willie Mays always played
Franklyn Roosevelt wasn’t crippled by a germ
Rub some dirt in it
Get back in the game
Stand at the podium
Make your speech. Fake your spiel
Stake your claim
That was America

Like baseball
Now, just when you think you have things all set up
The bases are loaded
So many signs seem to point
Toward your scoring the clinching runs
And winning the game
In the bottom of the ninth
Yet something unforeseen
Can still happen at any time
A ball hits a bird in the middle of the sky
A triple play
A dirty filthy yellow hammer
A swing and a miss

As to why baseball is such an uncanny allegory
For the sudden unexpectedness
Of both the pleasures and sorrows
In an imperceptibly gradual
Loosening of our thickly wound consciousness
Spinning the wheels of all things predicated
By the duplicitous apparent
Like a beamball at a non-helmeted skull –
Coronavirus 2019

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s