(taking a chance on a prose poem today)

He’s running diamonds in his mind, out beyond second base where fly balls drop like stars, only every once in a while. The time-lapse camera unfolds in its summer laziness, as if time were all that there were in the world and no one had to worry about the hours. Crouched down, glove resting on his knee, jaws working overtime on the raw piece of Juicy Fruit as his mind wanders to the crowd in the stands, dripping ketchup and cheese and ice cubes on their laps as they ready themselves for the pitch. They don’t see him, here, in this field of green. They don’t see him. He spies the red hat and winks, knowing no one is watching. He winks again, as if he were a firefly sending out messages to the sky, which is too busy to answer anyway. If he were the ball, where would he go … he ponders this as the crowd’s voice surges forward, lending velocity to the pitch. He waits for that moment of silence between the throw and the hit, and gulps in anticipation for the possibilities that exist in the absence of action.

–Kevin
the podcast: http://www.cinchcast.com/dogtrax/poetry-podcasts/207993
Kevin Hodgson´s last [type] ..I’m Writing- Too So Should You