no time for baseball
it’s the bottom of the ninth
and nobody’s keeping score
and though the lights are on
the stadium is nearly empty
in the comfort of my own home
I can’t reach the game on am radio
instead switch to fm and listen to
jimi hendrix covering bob dylan
early morning news feed arrives
bold headlines scream no-hitter
followed by abbreviated stories
regurgitating tales of mass destruction
weatherman breaks in unannounced
low lying fog chemically unbalanced
possibly canceling the school day
if not the entire baseball season
april two thousand eighteen
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