Playing Hooky

Playing Hooky

- for M. and S.  

The ballpark’s buzzing. 

The Reds are up 5-3
and the hometown crowd
is antsy. 

Let’s go, Ms! we chant 
back at the TV as if Danny 
and the boys can hear 
us. 

It’s muggy out. 

The dahlias bloom
like post-game fireworks
and slow, fat flies laze above 
raspberries sweating
in a bowl. 

The same color as Cincinnati. 

We’ll eat them later 
over French vanilla ice cream
on the back deck, the sky
streaked with puce and salmon, 

as all around the soft play
of sprinklers hush 
the neighborhood to bed. 

A good day.