Watch him flip
them the bird
after the ball
comes flying,
a line drive hit hard
between first and second
just outside his reach,
he dives for it,
catches it,
and lobs it to first.
Years of practice,
mornings up
before dawn,
long afternoons
cascading into dusk—
no one can touch him.
Out on the field,
under the commanding
sun he’s claimed his position.
He is old enough
to know his story
is no longer his coach’s
nor his father’s.
When the outfield retires,
and he takes the plate,
look. Watch him
pound it out of the park.
ISSUE: Summer 2014