Narrative

I watch tv alone now because
No one wants to watch it with me.
Some one performs a miracle on
some program, and I believe
with everything inside of me
that miracles are real,
that miracles are possible.
A miracle just took place
so I begin to cry.
I lose control.
It isn't the kind of crying that
you can cover up if someone
knocks on the door.
It is the crying that
closes the throat,
clenches the face,
and shakes the entire body.
It is the crying that
is unstoppable.
And I don't care.
It feels good to be awash
in my lowliness.
The tears subside eventually, and
I check the score.
But now that my life is cleansed,
baseball doesn't have as much significance.