Ball

T ball holder
I dip to perch onto
Imagine inside my body
I strip off my uniform
Push at the tip
I’m jealous of the ball
I want to sit on top of it
Feel the odd shape
From the inside
As the crowd is watching
The gravel dusts my feet
The sun beads down
My fingers white hot
Like a quarterback
I crouch and bear down
To my luck
It finds its way in
The ball on the field
relaxes far
Away from me

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