Torsos, armed with lumber,
Shadowed by a lawman
And his padded captive, half
Of a battery's intense pair,
And a roiling crowd, all
Fidelity, unrehearsed, teeth bared,
Shadows the lawman, stalking
his “Fouls! ” and “Fairs! ”
Who shadows the lawman?
Not his boss, nor some shaman,
Nor a pious fan’s muttered “amen.”
The real who is a bit more common.
Hopes for ropes to find leather,
Hopes for bats to hit ropes
Hopes for enemy rallies to weather.
Ump-ears are loud with hopes.
Who shadows the lawman?
Not those torsos in motion
Who unleash (before they
Soften) merit, well-rehearsed.
Umps harden to a human ocean,
Shadowed by pardoned hopes,
Whose lips, pursing with emotion,
Often share it – they burst right open!
[02-28-07 El Cerrito, CA (rev.2 04-27-07 El Cerrito) ]
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