I see the ball is in my court again.
Our graceless game continues with no score
or satisfaction, for it’s always when
we manage some momentum that you floor
me with resentment and forsake all sense.
Our match is not the only game in town –
a slew of grownups play in such events,
contesting for the edge that cuts us down.

Addicted as I know myself to be
I’ll yet resist the urgency to call
on you and volley back disharmony,
and so today I will not touch the ball.
For every time I don’t pick up the phone
is victory for me, and me alone.