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Barefoot on Thin Ice


T-ball with Rachel
T-ball with Rachel
Is baptism by fire
In the font of a god
Who is not entirely well.
Curly blonde hair
With bugs and mud makeup
Zubas hiked up on one side
Left shoe on her right foot
And a right shoe somewhere.
She will be one heck of a woman
Someday
And eat chocolate
Without wrapper in her teeth
But these are the glory days.
And I am pitc hing.
She swings at ghosts.
Ontime pitch, offtime swing,
Time incognito and
All the time in the world .
She is lord and mistress
Of time and space
Because
They don’t exist.
I stick out my tongue
And give her the LOOK.
Little girl, old lady or CEO,
No batter can swing straight
At the eyes of a cat.
So she charges the mound
Hands on hips
Pouting in rage
Slaps me
Stomps back
Whacks the cover off the ball
And walks the bases.
VERY slowly.
 
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