Sandlot

Sandlot

by Andy Mitchell

When I was a kid expected to play
Little League, I used to pray
For rain. I loved the game
But dreaded the twilight hour
When it was my turn at bat,
Hoping to be walked like a dog
Safely down to first,
Maintaining my average,
Keeping my uniform clean.
I belonged in the backyard,
Or the vacant lot, along with
The dandelions and the grasshoppers,
basking in the midday
Sun, swinging for the fences
That didn’t exist,
Tearing around the field
In a filthy T-shirt
And grass-stained jeans.

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