AFTER THE AERO’S GAME

an empty Coke cup
rolls back and forth
in the breeze

a white napkin
tumbles end over end
catches in the fence and hangs on

salted-in-the-shell peanut hulls
lay empty in the cement walkways
between the bleachers

tier after tier after tier
going back up to the blue rafters

and over behind third base
behind the white fence

behind the Don Hattan Chevrolet sign
by the Rock Island tracks

a skinny black boy
searches for

the last
Chamblis foul