There are several sports that I understand.
And there is tennis, on the other hand.
There’s incomprehensibility more
To tennis than attempting to keep score.
We joke as we leave, at nine-thirty, two
Sets in. “So do you think it will still be
On when we get back?” Last year it was. We
Assume it won’t be this year, but we’re wrong.
The match is that long. When we come back from
Church, it’s still morning–but only for some.
In Wimbledon, it’s evening, and the game
Evening, the same scores for each man. They
Fight through the sweat, continuing to play.
The aces are high and over the net.
Each serve skillful, yet some errant. But then
They get the chance to serve the ball again.
A nice idea–for third grade volleyball,
I think. Shouldn’t all mistakes have a cost?
Shouldn’t each play help figure out who lost?
But that’s not how the game works. So I watch,
Not minding each botch. There’s forgiveness here
Whether or not I find the logic clear.