Cut Fastball

The younger me
would call me
a man without passion.

I was the typical
AAA pitcher.
Fastball
fired across
the high outside corner.
Fastball
inside low.
Fastball
down the middle,
high.

Daring you to make contact.

I wrote with
white fingertips.
I meant every word,
and I spelled it out exactly.

Now that I’ve
gotten older,
I understand
motivations
and why things happen.
Life isn’t happening
to me,
it’s happening
by me.

I have had
to learn a few tricks.
A changeup,
curveball,
and a slider
that could
buckle your knees
if you were expecting
something else.
The fastball is
less fast,
but it has
more movement.

Less Randy Johnson,
more Greg Maddux.

So yeah.
Maybe I am
passionless
to a kid
who couldn’t conceive
of an engine
that doesn’t run
on dark matter.

That’s okay.
He figures it out,
I’m told.

-GD Butler