Up before God— (again)
   one Ava wake-up,
   two trains,
   and a neck-crackin' seat

   somewhere between here and Irby’s.

I can smell my corner barstool already.

Might nap,
      might bounce off the jetbridge jungle gym—

      depends how long the butterflies hold their formation.

Yesterday, you sent music.
Like, _real_ songs.
Post-pause playlist energy.

We didn’t say much,
   just hit play and passed tracks
   like folded notes in 5th period—

You started it…
               I’m still grinning about that.

The last one dropped at 3 a.m. (Naturally.)

Rangers nearly swept—
        blew it late in the 9th,
        left the go-ahead runner
        pacing between first and second…

        like me at Irby’s waiting for you.

Two outta three ain't bad.
Still playing *meaningful* baseball in August.
Still just one game out of the wildcard.

Still playing us, it seems.
The playlist, I mean.

Tell me that doesn’t feel like a rally, Mari?