This poem does not contain a baseball
whether professional grade, softball,
or that peculiar Chicago oversized softball.
If it did contain a baseball,
the poem would center on my childhood dreams
of playing outfield for the Cubs.
Since this poem is not about baseball,
I could make it about race relations in New Mexico
outside of the Isotopes and city leagues.
I could make about the first girl I fell for,
but she played fast pitch softball
and often struck me out during coed leagues.
I could make this poem about the pandemic
and the incompetent federal response
and the heroic efforts by the front line workers,
but that would bring me back to baseball
and negotiations between players and owners
on how to split up billions and billions of dollars
when I think they should donate all their net revenue
to support baseball fans who lost their jobs
due to the shutdowns.
Everyone would become a baseball supporter
under that monetary incentive.
Baseball would be America’s Game again.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney