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pitcher
you are a pitcher
of innocence
with a good
follow through
and a wicked
curve ball
that i swing at
when the count
is full
hoping it won't
drop off the table
you are a pitcher
of beauty that
pours through
the analytical window
like a neon signal
of impending fancy
a picture of something
so interesting
it drags me down
to my last metaphor of
"hey wow, like
in a museum"
on the expressway
the fog was something
it was like stepping
in a bear's mouth
know if you made it
all the way through
the digestive tract
that it would be dark
a 2 am in upper canada
