A ball and a stick and
A diamond of trash cans as
Fifty thousand adoring fans
Fill a postage stamp yard
To wait and watch in anticipation,
Knowing all too well your
Late inning heroics will
Somehow rise to save the day.
Chalk roads on concrete,
Pathways through neighborhoods
Real and imagined
In intricate patterns.
Crossroads and railroads,
Stop lights and stop signs,
Fire truck and ambulance,
Cops chasing speeders.
Playing til sunset,
Beyond if allowed,
Til mother yells, “bath time”.
Reality stinks.
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