Batter Up

Underneath
what you see of me,
what you think you see
but can’t imagine, really:
the Big Anger, much of that drawn
from what you don’t see. 

Underneath 
what you see:
hard to describe, really; let’s
manifest it this way — 
I’m a chain smoking demon
sitting out a rain delay
in a ballpark where
I can’t light up.

Underneath 
what you see,
what you can’t see but
maybe you can hear:  let’s go,
batter up, America’s Game,
batter up.  Let me take 
a swing if you’re not ready — 
and man, are you not ready.