Tough Chick

My muscles are pool noodles.

    My ankle is swollen.

I have bruises and a floor burn.

    But I will play on;

        I am a tough chick.

The ball was alien.

    My hands were dead fish.

My head unclear with trash talk.

    But I will play on;

        I am a tough chick.

Like in movies and in history,

    Like in this game and the others,

There are women who stood tall and said,

    I will play on;

        I am a tough chick.

So I will shake it off,

    And I will face all doubts.

My ankle is taped.

    Time to suck it up and go.

Pass me the ball and be ready!

    I will play on;

        I am a tough chick.


For Grace

That Guy

He may be that guy

that’s there at every game

cheering loud, or might be cursing the ref.

He may be that guy

that with few words to say,

is gruff, or might be a lullaby.

He may be that guy

that is at work, long on time,

chasing providence, or might be a dream.

Yet, he is that guy

that is there when needed like a hero,

no cape, but just as bold,

ready to leap, outside brave,

strong face, sturdy and dependable,

"don’t mess with my kids.”

He is that guy,

a paradox of close and distant,

gentle but rugged,

unbreakable yet bending.

He is that guy

that takes on a complex role

for a simple man

of being a father, a dad.

Yeah,

he is that guy.