What does this woman know
that lights up the curves
of her face that way,
like piecrust right out of the oven,
as if she just hit
your best red-devil fastball
clean out of the park
before you even threw it,
bringing one-hundred-and-twenty thousand roaring fans to their feet
while you just hang your head sweating
and kick the dirt
and say, “Shucks”
the way Jimmy Carter did
on that Saturday Night Live skit
during the energy crisis
when Muss Lullian clutches her chest
and falls off the generator bike
powering the broadcast from the Oval Office
and the screen goes blank?