[dedicated to the 2024 New York Mets]
I am dizzy, nauseous and confused by the
Roller-coaster ride which is my team’s season.
My mind is swirling and drowning in the depths
Of confusion and my desire for security, for
Predictability, is lost in the swamp of mediocrity.
I require logic and consistency; I am a sailor
Trusting the compass to point me to true north
But instead of seagulls, I am chained to a weighty
Albatross and there is no landfall within my sight.
The ocean’s waves carry me astray, and I have no
Choice; neither I nor my team can recognize a
Higher pathway to success this season. They win
Several in a row just to balance the act and lose
An equal number. They reach a five-game ceiling
And a playoff spot only to be caught in a rip-tide
Of despair and swirl and crash into waves of
Uninspired performances – – – poor pitching, barren
Batting, egregious errors – – – and I, the poor fan
Who once signed on for the joyous ride, am pulled
From Heaven to the abyss – – – and all at once
Back heavenly but groaning heavily as the
Roller-coaster ocean ride threatens to drown me
In unpredictability. And I am lost and lack control.
It is the fate of the eternal optimist that the true
Character of the season-ride in this seaside season
That I be carried by the waves and tides without
Control. Neptune’s discordant tune plays in my ears
And I cannot sing: I do not know the words or melody.
My mind swims directionless and the coaster-car I am
In cannot be controlled and the roller-coaster leaps
And dives into the ocean and I can only pray that
At ride’s end I will be rewarded for my faithfulness – – –
But such senseless rides rarely reward the faithful
With a prize. That would be too much of a surprise.
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