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To Lee Vowell's previous piece

Ty Cobb, 1911

I used to envy the witty words you wrote
But as I've matured and become Ty Cobb
I realize that I was only "different" from others
And you wore another badge
(I speak a cautious tone because
Some listening are editors
And they have read finer points on grammar)
But belief is one's systematic downfall
So I'll write about the items
I believe

On a book with a purple cover
That was inked a big monkey's face
I sought my musings, but saw only one-
Something about straight teeth and metal wheels-
That I- to be honest- do not recall writing
But if I did it was ten years ago and I was…
Not the same. I was vacant…
Driving too fast and too slim in the frame
I pretended the year was 1911 in Detroit
I had a nice average

I glance at the book of poems containing your utterances
And attempt to take a peek at my poem about Beethoven
That I know is not there ('twas rejected "by Editor")
And I hum a tune in d-minor, with flaws
Pondering…Bach and Beethoven, Ruth and Cobb
But I still like baseball and pepper and
I am Ty Cobb in a Tigers uniform
And my spikes are razor-like
I slide with feet angry for pain
Envious of those…

…with more speed

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