Bottom of the Ninth

We were miserable, but happy,

but did that make us miserably happy?

I couldn't be certain,

of this or anything else derivative of you,

of this

If I was certain,

then you would find just

and you find cause,

to leave me

Our love was the old fashioned kind,

pedestrian in its appearance,

but captivating to us, the chosen pair

There were few things in the world as lovely as you,

and I was a well traveled being,

with my typewriter and my suppositions threading to and fro

It was during a baseball game that I heard a ringing in my ear,

and my hand went up, high in the air, like its sister, white with concession;

you ignored the inning for a reason unbeknownst to even you,

you hopped the fence and put your hands on my cheeks,

and you wiped the glitter from my eyelids,

and you told me, right then and there,

that perhaps you liked me with only this red t-shirt

and these aged, fitted jeans

and with my eyes fixed on deck