Pep Talk About Variables

Batter hits a homer with a healthy whack;
next up he's barely able to make contact, even
getting on first base is monumental task.
He asks himself, the fans ask, commentator
wonders on the microphone why, if he did
it once, he can't repeat the feat to save his life
or more to point, to break the tie and win the game?
Or in a different vein, a favorite recipe, meticulously
followed, yields diversity of taste and texture when
meticulously followed once again. And then there are
relationships, which no one yet has figured out,
which doesn't mean that we've stopped thinking
that we have. You think that you're consistent,
loving with your speech and reaching out to others
as you try to do each day. With one you're golden,
good heart, freaking sainthood just around the corner
and with another you're regarded wretchedly,
an icky something sticking to the bottom
of her shoe. It isn't you. It's life, it's them, it's
whether someone slept last night, how long it's been
since they got laid. It's humid out today or dry,
that's why the fudge will work one day but not
the next. Too many fluctuations mucking up the works
and getting in our way, turning, twisting, or resisting
very effort this time, rolling out red carpet next occasion.
We keep trying, though, because deep down we know
the odds are on our side. You do it, say it, give until
it hurts so many times that you've lost count, and eventually
you swing the bat and hit the ball right on the sweet
spot, high five's from the team and crowd gone wild
as you, a second homer to your credit, grinning,
winning, make that final turn for home.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013