Grand Slam of the Soul

I don’t have one foul note to pitch
against anything or anyone anymore…
at least for today.

The government continues to do its thing,
and so I pay
taxes
on bread and butter
unto the grave.
Maybe my rage will return
the moment they start trying
to charge for each breath
that enters these lungs.
But right now at the park
the air is full of dirt
as a tractor drags the infield
to smooth out its surface.

I don’t mind
the conditions
at all;
there are no bad hops
in my heart
at this time.
I’ll return to dust and ash
in the end;
might as well enjoy some peace
while I can.

The politicians throw their curves
into the system,
and all those in attendance
stand on their side of the line
casting red and blue stones
back and forth.
But I’m like a child
feigning ignorance
while reclaiming my innocence
as I wander around in the grass
near the fence
chasing butterflies
to and fro.

At the crack of the bat
I’ll focus my eyes anew
to locate the ball
just before it falls
so I can dive with a slide
for the catch,
and then lay on my back
until the final out of the contest
to watch clouds
drift through the sky
high above.

I’m like a kite
caught in the winds
of worldly detachment,
caring not at all
about dramatic scores
that have been left
unsettled.
Everyone is right
in their own way,
so I’ll just keep writing
with a smile on my face
because there’s nothing wrong
with turning the other cheek,
choosing unconditional love,
and playing the game
of life
fair and straight
by…

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