Last night it was the guzzling,
Champagne-suds, so cold, so easy
Hydration leaving me numb
To political firebombs, global conflicts, human idiocy.
Instead, that subtle buzz had me enjoying
Thoughts, positive ones
Where wind-blown fly balls went our way,
Where sermons on baseballs traveling deep
Found a congregation of contact making high schoolers
Who are doing something special,
Growing up,
Gaining perspective.

This morning it’s coffee
Slugged down with a bottomless potential,
Leaving me shaky,
Hands, hyped on caffeine
Beboping some kind of punk rock caligraphy, are
Driven to type,
Because my fingers are too excited to write neatly,
Sharpee lines all over the place, upending my quest
For neatness, order, and control
Everything opposite of what I’m hoping for
With creativity,
With aging,
With wisdom.

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