We played baseball.
A Sunday routine sprawled under cool gray skies,
In the grassy corners between brick buildings.
Backway into downtown.
Mingled in fantastic stories of love and laughter,
Pushing away the winds,
And small, empty places.
Company, sometimes, on the way to cheap drinks,
Rattle of ice,
And the rhythm of a creaking barroom door,
While glitter rains down from the sky.