shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

KG Newman

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All Hail The .400 Hitter

Like the victorious generals of Rome he'd fancy himself
returning home to a parade, The Greatest Since Williams,
they'd say, All Hail The .400 Hitter. And like the generals of Rome
he'd have a slave, an old coach who didn't believe in him, perhaps,
trailing close behind to whisper in his ear: All Glory Is Fleeting.
But even in the washed-up present he knows there isn't a chance in hell
he'd believe that: The aplomb that comes with .400 is something
that can never be given back. And instead of rose petals, wide-eyed kids
would throw their own fresh-cut grass at his feet just to tell their friends
that Mr .400 himself touched their very lawn. But even in this tableau,
with all admirers clobbering for a mere glimpse of his attention,
the crowd never directly addresses him by name. He is just another general
in a long history of successful generals. If distance is the gods' means
of reward, he'd figure, then he'll continue to play along,
keep on marching on the way to escape himself.