Big Red

The base is safe with a man guarding.
A small man awaits me. His hand pounding his glove.
The next hit might close the distance between here and home.
With each base, dust kicks, then it settles in the slight breeze.
Red won’t let me standstill.
The sun shines through the evergreen trees.
I breathe deep.
Cherry chewing tobacco lingers
I’m scared.
Red tells me to go.
I go.
I clash with the catcher.
The empire saves me
For the win

(This is about my middle school baseball coach telling me to steal third base with a hand gesture. I couldn’t see him, so he screamed: Next play, steal the fucking base.)

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