Unforced Errors

Self-inflicted wounds are the worst kind
when you know the hands of your attacker
will fail yet again
to handle the moment of truth,
to record the last out,
to stop that slow dribbler
coming up the first-base line;

A freight train
on the express lane
rumbling down the tracks.

Your feet staked.
You can’t make way.
Forced to stand your ground.
Frozen in looped replay
to watch the moment pass you by
when taking a knee would’ve seized it.

Never to realize
that you can’t buck the system
and its perfectly imperfect code.

© J. Manuel