A Poet in Training

 

When I was eleven

I was the second best pitcher

On our little league team,

But coach Dad used me sparingly

Because I had a low tolerance

For missed umpire calls,

Infield errors, walks, hits, passed balls,

People yelling shit from the stands.

 

I begged him to let me start a game.

He said you have a terrible temper.

I can’t put you out there.

I was a fucking mess.

I wanted to be the star.

When I was eleven,

I was already

A poet in training.