I Have, On Occasion

I have, on occasion, known victory,
The dizzying post-adrenaline ecstasy
Of collapsing, falling out of my head
Into a golden trophy feather bed,

and I have, on many of them, known defeat,
Exhausted rage soured by finality,
The feeling that I have only run out of time,
But, of course, the game wouldn't last my whole life.

Most foreign to the world's American corner,
I know the flavor of sweet, iron surrender,
That baseball bat wrapped in silk,
The better and the worse for being a path I chose myself.
It always tastes like blood in my mouth.