love is exactly like this, coach told me when i was ten

love

is exactly like a baseball

glove

my coach Ernie

said to me when i was ten.

when it's new

it's a little

stiff and hard,

not pliable,

sure it has that

new out of the box leather

scent to it.

but it takes time

to get it just right and fit

your hand.

you have to rub

oil into it,

and slap

it hard, punch the pocket just

right to get it round,

so that you can

snag everything that comes

your way

from centerfield

to first base,

in the air or on the ground,

but once it's worn

in, you take care of it.

you worship it.

at some point he'd spit out

a brown stream

of tobacco

from his caramel colored

teeth then continue on.

you sleep with it in

your bed at night.

you don't

toss it aside, or leave

it in the yard for the dog

to gnaw on. you put it

where you can

find it for the next time,

when you're ready again

to play ball.

you don't let your stupid

sister or brother touch it.

i think Ernie may be still

be in prison,

from what i've heard

around town.