Men playing their lives like the games they watch,
competing even when there's no competition, just
their inner imaginings of one.
Running bases, shooting hoops as they work to
support their families and provide lives for them,
especially as their children grow and mature.
Future empty-nesters always on the edge in
formulating avenues of imagined competitions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem