a bloated belly rises from the diamond
of his body like a pitcher’s mound at dusk,
the game begins again:
one resin bag in dirt
and a pair of steel cleats
scratch their workday marks
on his baseball skin
eight thousand fans lounge alert
in bleachers built of wood
from miles and miles away
chug cold beers and cheer,
watch the show unfold
roar, boo and bellow
approval and disdain
with every pitch, belly
laugh and belch
as he lazes in
stadium's midst
soothed radiant
by the breeze,
enjoys untold innings
curl pleasing
unpredictably
into one another
(so full and slow-
going these
spherical
afternoons
of curve)
he's warmed by
Autumn’s
dervish sun
in his chubby
golden Buddha
days
plays the teasing
maverick
asleep or awake
with graceful
twists and turns
and a smiling
gut-first sliding
sure athletic
ease.
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