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Will you write the poem
That brushes me back?
That chases me
To the warning track?
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The verse that comes at me
With spikes flying high?
That blinds with the
Glare of a sun-filled sky?
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Will your words flow
With a shortstop's ease,
Then stop my breath
Like a suicide squeeze?
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Will your poem smack
Like a fist in the glove?
Will it quicken the heart
Like the game I love?
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