When the March Day opened

March 2018  -as I recall once



I keep hearing the first word

and the last word follow lock

step right next to each other.


As usual.

But lately they have

started to match.


The last time I heard

it on a concrete ramp

right before the first pitch

across a chilly April sunshine

hidden half sunlit and shadow

just in the next section over.


In smoke shrouded swirling chin

in shades yet.

Looking down in the coffee

there was this reflection

at the bottom

of my black coffee cup sea.


Contended to the bone.

Back sharing a solid slab.

All over it with my shoulders

in my favorite place.


Thinking of you.

Lyrics alive.

Taking shape behind my eyes

Pushing a song out of my lips.


You hidden right around corner.

All the time.

You thinking

Just what am I really seeing ?



In his line of vision.


It was Sanitation day @ Shea.


Pitcher came out

Plywood flat

BP practice fast balls

It was a blow out by the 5th.


I sat next to you

with my kid

in stolen seats.

While a fan

screamed out my name.


I sucked

He loved me


He wasn’t even talking to me.


Great Garbage.


It was all pretty familiar.


The last word

and the first.


All over again.


Fuck’n play ball

or not at all.


And that was never

the last word heard


the first word they seem to mean


But it was always

all I ever heard

of everything in between                                                    The Terrible Now circa 2004


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