Dodgers 5, Padres 4—
           two games up,
           four more with the Rockies
           lined up like kindling.

Rangers answered back,
        10 to 4 over Toronto,
        revenge after Saturday’s drubbing.

Braves? Quietly ruthless,
        five in a row now,
        streak humming like background music.

Cardinals fell to the Yankees again,
          and fuck the Yankees,
          always and forever.

From my Irby’s perch
     I sent the updates,
     steady notes from my Buckhead watchtower.
     You didn’t need them—
             probably not—

     but I needed the hum of our thread intact.

Mostly silence,
       the kind that feels like patience.

A word here, a thought there,
  until I asked about Monday,
                about… today.

Your answer:
            “Definitely.”

One word,
    simple as a box score,
    but better than any win:

       Dodgers up two,
       Rangers redeemed,
       Braves streaking,
       Cardinals sunk,
       Yankees still damned,

       but only one score mattered—
                that beautiful Yes.

Music to carry me
      through the office,
      past the universe, (shh)
      all the way to your smile tonight—

      my favorite song.