This is my last nostalgia poem, I swear.
Punchball
There is no use reliving the past.
Stoopball
I should turn my mind to future challenges.
Slapball
There are enough things to worry about
Boxball
Without dredging up childhood memories.
Hit the Penny
The past is quite dead, you know.
Three-Box Baseball
You can’t change what was.
Off-the-Curb
Those days are gone forever.
Chinese Handball
I will never go back to the 2nd St. Park.
Stickball
You have my word on that.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME