Long, Slow, Deep, Soft, And Wet

Remember that scene in Bull Durham where Crash has
To throttle his pitcher, ’cause strikeouts “are fascist”?
Pursuit of perfection’s compelling; achieving
It’s anticlimactic when everyone’s leaving,
Believing the dénouements faits accomplis.
We’re fortunate, then, that there’s no guarantee
Nor indeed expectation that our daily striving
To reach an ideal means it’s ever arriving.
As thrift is to fiscal or flossing to dental health,
Regular efforts that yield incremental wealth
Gains in financial or physical senses
Mean profits accrue whilst reducing expenses
Attendant on racing to life’s apogee,
Then descending toward dusty death rife with ennui…
Whoa, that’s dark. Still, the point is, kinetic beats static
As energy goes, plus it’s more democratic.

Comparative Wit

Everything’s a metaphor
For something else that mattered more
When it was real than what we see
Reflected in a simile.

Ruminain’t

The narrowed eye and furrowed brow
That brand a calculating cow
Have nearly lately been forgot
As cattle mostly now are not.

Whine Or Dine

Absent heat
I like to eat
But when it’s hot
I so do not.

We Don’t Need No Stinking Bedtime!

Late-afternoon naps
And a like-timed caffeine jolt
Have the same effect

Tocked Off

I have a halfway-broken clock:
It seems to tick but not to tock.
I can’t tell if it’s slow or fast;
It always seems to be half-past
(Or, just as likely, half-before?
It hardly matters anymore)
The hour my computer has.
It’s syncopated, like a jazz
Tune with a cut-time signature;
It’s not for waltzing, that’s for sure.
Suffice to say, I’ll keep our date,
But might be half a second late.