Sunday, March 14, 2010

In The Dugout


In the dugout
You dug me out
Of suburban boredom,
I do the same
laugh with the rhythm of pretned-permaenence
i am
temporary
so when You mispronounce my name, i don't really mind
and your name?
what is it again- one of those easy names, like john or mike.
Too easy that i second guess myself when I call to you, outloud
So we prefer to go nameless
feeling anonymitiy’s breeze on our naked backs
We watch the sun set over the yellow house
We Smoke cigarettes,
And lean against wire net.
breathing baseball’s tan dust in early spring
(or is it late winter?)
we stay until sun set,
until our families need us
to return keys,
to swoop up little ones.
us
secret players at dusk,
chewing and spitting eachother out like tobacco

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