Base Coach
Incessant athletic field dust in the grooves of my fingerprints
I looked up into the orange horizon this evening and back down to my task
“I’ve never done this before”, I thought as I pushed the chalk line cart down a crooked base line
I recall this later from the orange horizon of a glass of beer in my living room
I washed my hands of it
When I played the game as a kid, I always took notice of those dads
They used to drag the infield with chain link remnants on a rope
Their jeans were tighter and their skin was whiter
But they seemed to love it more than I do
But not for the pause for the geometry of the batter’s box
I might have overlooked looking myself in the mirror
“I’ve never done this before”, I thought as I sucked the coke line into my brain
I recall this from another life—from another womb
It’s a dirty sport, this living
And I’m wetting down the pathways for all the junkies stealing home and stealing homes
And I’ll never wear the boring rounded caps you wear
Stargell and Pryor and other influences dare
My headwear stunning and cylindrical and pinstriped
As yellow as the whites of my eyes and taking the biggest lead you’ll ever see
Good luck to you, Stretch
It’s a Pirate’s life for me

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