Spikey cleats
Taped up bats
Oiling up the gloves
Suburban weekends
Green summer grass stains
Watching Dad
Coach my brother’s baseball games
(there were so many good dads)
The moms would gab
In rows on cheap metal stands
Groups of beautiful birds
Applying lipstick at 9am
Neighborhood dames
Wearing shirts with their son’s names
Everyone gathered to play a game
Coolers full of silver Capri Suns
Ziplock bags of bright orange slices
Every second word is ‘fun’
(there were so many good moms)
American mornings
Bat hits ball
Ball over wall
We cheer
Yell: team, team, team
Dad, Mom, Son, Daughter
Community field
Sunshine play
Celebrate, celebrate, celebrate the day
There was once an American thing
I remember, once
There was an American way
(there were so many good ways)
Remember how we used to
Celebrate, celebrate, celebrate the day
THE POETRY OF THE GAME