Dust settles,
I’m out,
Of this El Dorado,
I fear I never learned the rules,
Of rather never heeded them,

Alas I speak not of baseball,
But of a home,
Knapsack at the ready,
Full of filthy guilt,
My human mistakes,

Was it my unwieldy and sickly countenance?
Did I spend too much time in my head?
My unkempt den?
My friends in the night?
Strikes one and two,

This haven,
Of Bavarian design,
Strike three is called,
And I’m out of here,
The sidewalk beckons.

Comments
  1. Genuine and stark reality poem!!

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