A Day at the Ballpark
The player swings his bat with the strength of an average man. He misses the ball and is called out. Nearby, the cries are heard of a little girl whose ice cream has become a white, clumpy puddle upon the ground. An old man, a fan of the game for decades, curses under his breath at the umpire's unfortunate call. The young couple to the left smile and whisper. They aren't paying attention to anything but each other. Sweeping can be heard from the tan, slender woman on the cleaning staff who is working three jobs to feed a family of four children and no husband. This is a typical day at the ballpark, a typical day in America.
POEM SET-UP:
A Day at the Ballpark
The player swings his bat
with the strength of an average man.
He misses the ball
and is called out.
Nearby,
the cries are heard
of a little girl whose ice cream
has become a white, clumpy puddle upon the ground.
An old man,
a fan of the game for decades,
curses under his breath
at the umpire's unfortunate call.
The young couple to the left
smile and whisper.
They aren't paying attention to anything
but each other.
Sweeping can be heard
from the tan, slender woman on the cleaning staff
who is working three jobs
to feed a family of four children
and no husband.
This is a typical day at the ballpark,
a typical day in America.
