The wind whips up the
red clay dust,
Swirling a funnel.
Dancing candy wrappers and mustard-stained napkins.
The millionaires shrug and blink in the blast
Waiting for the ball to come their way.
Suntan oil and dark
The aroma of popcorn and beer.
Small talk and tutorials of "experts".
Fragmented stereo of dozens of radios
All tuned into the game down below.
Lift your sneakers out of the Coke puddle
From the little kid in the Yankees cap
Who has never even seen that team.
© 1995 Michael
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