Mixed

This time,

We played baseball.

A Sunday routine sprawled under cool gray skies,

In the grassy corners between brick buildings.

Backway into downtown.

.

Effervescent afternoons,

Mingled in fantastic stories of love and laughter,

Pushing away the winds,

Stalking crosswalks

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.