Thursday, September 17, 2009

I'm Late

I'm Late

A friend of mine had two strikes,
her game was on the line.
Another strike was pitched,
it wasn't what she liked,
but a swing she had to take,
so she swung that vodka bottle
with everything she had
and struck a little squibbler
skipping down the line,
and while the fielders charged
to interrupt her strike
she raised a drunken ruckus
storming down that line.

The throw across the diamond
tied her foot down to the bag
and crashing into safety
sent the sacker to the sand.
But now she found herself
alone at that first base bag
needing desperately to find a way
to make the next way station.
So she called upon her friend
over in the on-deck circle
to sacrifice and bunt her
quickly over to second.

So bunt I did,
and safe she is,
but now for you
I'm poor and late.
But don't you look
or call a strike on me,
'cause I'll tell you
to your face:
"Go fuck yourself!"
for me.

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