In my earliest days
I wanted to hold hands with a girl
I wanted to play outside and have fun
I never thought beyond
Does she like baseball?
Playing outside?
Interested in "nerdy" things like me?
Like me?
I heard things men said
I didn't really understand them, or,
Didn't pay it the attention to do so
I just liked girls for the wholesome reasons
Reasons that a boy sheltered
Would only think of—
Would innocently desire...
Desire?
Then youths reach that certain age,
And things change in them
The cortex awakens a simplex
If left alone, becomes a complex
A complex to house venomous ideas
But if guided justly—biology—
Can work towards love.
Love?
I was a late bloomer
In both body and mind (outside intellect)
An "innocent", or "backwards type",
They called me.
Peers were now talking about girls
In ways like those men did.
But I didn't understand—
Understand?
As other boys trashed a girl's looks,
As they put another on a pedestal,
I wondered, "Do they like baseball?"
I stayed silent when they discussed looks,
Partly embarrassed, partly afraid
They'd tease me over anything I said
I didn't speak of what they... discussed...
Disgust?
Then I hit the point where my brain
Switched over to understand them
The things they saw and thought
But that innocent boy still resided
Within me, always speaking—
"Sure she's pretty, but...
Does she like baseball?"
Baseball?
Over time I observed the changes
In my peers and myself
Some of them went far and wide,
As others stuck closer to reality
Most acted a certain way around guys
Even if they were sweet around their lady
I guess 'twas to save face?
Face...
Biology tells a man to look
Much of his brain is for this
But that isn't the whole picture,
No matter how many things you
Can identify in said picture,
There's always more to see
Things that can't be seen?
Scene?
Some put on an act to draw her in,
His intentions be far and wide
Others still put on an act— intentions—
Closer to reality— The Heart
Still, those ideas creep into hearts
They can overtake or corrupt
And so they continue to creep
Creep...
ALL men feel this at times
Some men fill this all the time
All men see the picture and study,
But some never look beyond it,
To see what can't be seen
To know the best parts of a masterpiece
Is inside—the part that can say...
"Yeah, I like baseball."
YOU ARE READING
A Selection
General FictionA Selection is a chapbook featuring a variety of materials by D Pennington whose work has been featured online and in print form for 25 years. Several of the works presented here are excerpts from his whimsical books I Wrote A Book! and I Wrote Anot...
