You explained: If this stadium is an atom

the nucleus is a speck on the pitcher’s mound
and we are the orbiting electrons.

Do I repel you?

Having made some comment about
the lunar effect, admittedly unscientific,

a bit too loony.

You don’t believe in the stars,
well neither do I really, but you must agree

the moon exerts a pull, or,
we’ve really got a hold on it.

Another pop fly. I was talking about gravity—

The inning over, I step on your heel,
drawn in by attractive forces.

The opposing batter crowds the plate.

An atom is 99.9999% empty space,
and yet when our fingers touch

they don’t pass through.

The pitcher tires and relievers appear
in the bullpen, warming up as we watch

in silence.

I would like to know if I am destined

to be an unpaired electron,
reactive in a lonely orbital,

Or might we form a bond?

This may well be a story of decay,
what goes up always coming down,

eventually,

like the two flyouts that will end the game.

Let me explain:
You’ve really got a hold on me.

Should I brace for re-entry in so many days?