| | We've danced this dance, hope.
I always tell myself I'll keep you at arm's length. I always say, "I won't give in this time..."
And then, sometime, usually in March, perhaps April, I let you in.
Just for a bit, I warn. Just because...it is the thing to do at this time of year, for those of us who love the spring in Florida.
But just that little bit is always enough. Always enough to make throw wide the doors to you, to take you as a lover in spring, even into summer. As late as June...
And always, you heartless bitch, you leave me gnashing my teeth and rending my clothes and sobbing to an apathetic August sky.
But not this year. Not this year. I will not be swayed by all this talk of playoff contention and the gleam of batting practice jerseys, the crack of black bats.
No, hope. Not this year. Fuck you, hope. I will not let you back into my life until you've proven you'll stick around till August.
(Translation: The Orioles win 78 games or less this year, and I will not be deceived into believing otherwise unless they actually do. And to hell with all this stuff in the press reporting that the players all think they can win. You people are no better than pimps or drug dealers. For shame).
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| | Posted 2/20/2007 8:28 PM - 31 Views - 4 eProps - 2 comments
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