I don’t like you, up in that machine
Suspended between lives, mildly drunk.
If I were you, I would watch the wing
Because you are much closer to
The quiet chest of God, not down
Here on this dirt, down at the corner field
Decidedly tethered to your base and
Content to drink dark beer between pitches-
I’ve never seen anyone so comfortable on Earth.
Your last five apartments didn’t have tubs.
There was an extension of tin off the back of
The last one, as if someone didn’t know when to stop.
The last boyfriend you had was temperamental
And got soused on girl-drinks.
You’d always take the last bus home.
I remember you best in front of your locker mirror.
Your period made a rose on your white jeans.
I thought that was brave.
Nobody is prettier in pictures, dearheart.
When you leave for your retreats, night
Clobbers me like the devil’s cousin.
I love you even when exhausted, sunburned.
I say swing and run. Run far to where there
Won’t be men, just workers and fathers,