Back and Forth
By Susan L. Lipson, October 2015
You toss a ball to me
And I catch it, flashing a smile at you
That you don’t, or can’t, return.
I toss it back
And you let it drop and roll, sighing,
Because you didn't like my throw.
"C'mon," I encourage you, "throw it back,"
And I pick it up and hurl it at you
Noticing you wince at its impact.
You whip the ball at me now,
And I leap to grab it
And you sigh with exasperation
That I just didn’t get it—
That I just don’t get you.