Reconciliation

Cold,
calculating,
copy-editing,
corporate.

Bases loaded,
bat splintered,
beer spilled,
cheering, seething, feeling.

Mountain-climbing,
puppy-cuddling,
cookie-baking,
content.

The Editor's Remarks

If at first you don't succeed,
you probably work here instead of ESPN.

What the world needs now is
human interest stories.

When life hands you lemons,
keep them on file in case you need them later.

Then they all lived happily ever
after they finished the layout in Quark.

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I probably have a couple more hiding. ...Maybe I should write new stuff, too.

Minor League

You don't use crisp, clean, white baseballs
for batting practice.

The groupies have probably never even left
the time zone.

But you get a walk-up song,
and no one throws a six-dollar Iron City at you.

They love you,
because you're not in it for the money.

----------------------------------
And the old poems continue to finally see the light of day—er, screen.

Just Friends

We are almost twenty-two, and
you're no longer my lanky best friend
or my protective "big brother."

Your lean body eases through the fence, and
your feet sink into the snow.
Your hand reaches back, seeking mine.

The lights at Oakwood Park have long since gone to bed,
as we should have.

Thudding hard through our t-shirts,
our sweatshirts,
our coats,

I can feel your heart.
Or maybe it’s mine.

Your lips tickle my neck.
It was the only time you kissed me.

Your girlfriend wouldn’t have liked that.

But we're just friends.
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...I think I'll post a few more as the days progress. These are old (but original), circa fall 2008.