You have your car keys,
coffee, cell phone.
Car starts right up.
Only 36 more payments.
You leave the small house
with the tiny yard
which takes 30 years to pay off.
You have a full tank of gas
at four dollars a gallon.
Traffic jams.
An hour of driving
crawling through traffic
to reach your cubicle …
and you wonder
why you didn’t know
that bush-league ball
and small farm towns
would be the best days
of your life.
And “grow up” was
the worst advice ever.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME