The Shortstop
I was fast
and quick to the ball.
I had an arm like a gun,
and I looked good in
a uniform and cap,
my arms and neck and face
tanned, my hair sun-yellowed.
I liked the smell of cut grass
and sweat, the dirt, and
the arcing throw.
I was never much of a hitter
but once, on the Fourth of July
when I was thirteen,
I hit a home run and my
teammates clapped me on the
shoulders and ass and
we lost anyway, but
here I am, much older now,
still remembering it,
still happy.
12
5
2