old goats


after 108 years of enduring a curse

the cubbies won the world series

but that’s not what made it a banner day

it was because i


to forget you

today is pete rose’s birthday

today is pete rose’s birthday
a few years before
he bet on baseball
a meteor turned dinosaurs into petrol
for powering cars on trips to sports stadiums
and the zoo
i mention them together
neither charlie hustle nor the ancient beasts
get proper credit
where credit is due

confessing to the vicar of god

what a task
you’ve burdened me with

having to dance like i’m enjoying it
as you watch
masked through the glass

pretending i’m unaware you’re there

wigs, trench coats, switching booths every night
none of it’s working, baby

you’re nothing
if not a predictable animal

it’s your scent
and references
that betray you

i could spy with my little eye
and point you out from the blimp
hovering over a pirates game

i won’t look up

because in my dreams
i’m curled around you in the back seat
of a taxi cab
weeping for all we lost in the war
confessing to the vicar of god
it’s the sound of your voice
i’ve missed the most

i won’t smile at you

smiling is for pussies

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