Six-six (a poem)

I’m irritable and restless this morning
I can sit still—but just barely

I’m tired of entering the arena to make my stand
only to have the East German judge
give me outrageously low marks

I don’t care so much about the medal
(it’s only a medal)

It feels as though the fix is in
and I’m the one in need of repair

(6 June 2015)