Ode to Socrates

I knew nothing before you
Not a worthwhile thing
When to climb to heights
Why all feels imprecise
Where I ought to look
To sometimes not think twice

I knew nothing before you
Nothing that meant a fig
How I have it all
Why I love baseball
Not even my name
To rise again, post-fall

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They Touched

I heard him begin to breathe deep
Even breaths
Slipping away into sleep
Lulled  
Garrison Keillor on the radio 
If there’s ever a doubt
That the universe exists 
As much in us as we in it
Watch and listen
To a child
And a storyteller
At the same time

Storied Smile

Mr. Great, Mr. Great
I must touch your teeth
They have stories, such great stories
I’ll tempt them to tell

I have secrets, secret secrets
And a contagious splash
See here This Thing, This Shiny Thing
I’ll force your smile yet