You folks want tickets?”
We stood outside under the tree
Waiting for friends, taking in the scene,
Participating in the crowd, which came from every
Direction, stopping for bags of chestnuts, shopping for sun
Glasses, buying hats, swarming toward the turnstiles, but in total,
Undiminished, as we stood still waiting for our tickets to arrive.
Inside: We flowed first up then down ramps toward the light, a few steps,
Section24, Box l38, Row FF l-4-;
Confusion, double-checking, our places empty and waiting.
Two seat-seeking thieves below us were sneaking closer to home.
“Hey, ice cream,” my lunch-filled tender stomach turned toward the sound. “Hey, Ice cold Coke!” I could wait. We’d missed batting practice. The practice-pitcher’s lazy-L-shaped screen was down. The batter’s cage folded up and gone,
Monster wall shone pristine green in the early afternoon sun. All is in readiness for players to enter stage left. Many empty seats at game time less ten minutes.
Outside, inside, under the stands in line for beer, for pizza, for programs–first-pitch-aware to the minute–now moving from sun into shade.
Pre-assigned into row, section and seat. Passively eating, drinking, a chrysalis birthing a Red Sox Nation
United in hope to stand, to cheer, and to groan as one.
“Hey, hot dogs here.”