Thursday, February 24, 2011

Shoved aside by the wind’s huge hand
I tumbled toward the roadside ditch
landed on my shoulder
and rolled like an action-movie hero
though I didn’t spring to my feet
and hose a villain with an Uzi.
Instead I lay on my back
and hoped that the passersby
would think I was studying cloud formations
and not some old fool who’d fallen
while he was running
when he should have been at home in his underwear
sitting on the couch
reading the Geezer News.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Little League Try-Outs, January 22, 2011

Twenty-nine degrees.
Clink of aluminum bat.
The ball bounces once
on the infield dirt.
The shortstop misses,
and the ball
skims across the silver-frosted outfield grass.
The sun is barely above the horizon.
The players cast long shadows,
taller than the men they one day
will become.
Shadows longer even
than the boys’ dreams:
the homer that wins
the seventh Series game,
the picture on the baseball card,
enshrinement in the Hall.
When the boys leave the Little League
will they play on?
Or will they become accountants,
teachers, soldiers, saints?
One of them might even be
like me,
a solitary runner in the dawn.