Blue & Pink Rollers Atop My Head

I.

Saturday, somewhere, around 6:30 a.m.

A voice, familiar yet far away

Drifts into my slumber.

II.

Question, ‘where is’ begin

My uniform, batting gloves

Hat and mitt

The pitch is made, swing

Strike one, I pace

Strike two, I pace some more.

III.

Did you see my jock strap

(protects, the whisper of manhood)

Can we have breakfast at Garlands?

The batter steps out of the box

Takes a couple of deep breaths

Back in the box one last time.

IV.

Groaning, I roll over, whispering

‘My only day to sleep in’

Small hands shake my work weary body

Detonating blue and pink rollers from atop my head

The pitch is made, the batter swings

The ball whistles through the air

Between center and left field

V.

Shutters open, I ease out of bed

Resigned to Saturday fate, I shower

Thinking, how can a small person be so zealous

Runners fly around the bases, two runs scored

A runner on third, one at second

A spectators’ voice cries…’YES’.

VI.

I dress with a shadow hovering

Prodding me to make haste

Don’t want to be late

Mighty Mite…well he’s in the car!

June 1994