Take Me Out To The Ball Game
by
Lucas Restivo
While considering the idea of Help Unwanted signs
the train cart skimmed me like a cameo actor
on a half-forgotten one-off
that I imagine was called “The Jag” in their minds
as in “just another guy”, but cooler, with fate-acceptance
I also imagine this makes the word “jaguar”
prefixed, more complex, interesting again
The face on the Veteran Victories billboard says, “Try Me”
Subway air feels like a sauna for coal miners
while a kid in a solo seat escapes himself through the YMCA,
passengers enter as passengers exit,
and the machine hums on on temporary stalemates
By the door, keyholes look like unfinished Punisher logos
to the gates of whatever heaven or hell you really want
And we keep quiet in the standing section
and we keep quiet in the sitting section
until someone says “I'm not gonna get worked up” on Facetime
which, I’m sorry, already feels self-defeated
and the rest of us attempt our best hack at the great paradox
of privacy within a collective
Growing older means appreciating baseball
and every hairstyle on the frustratingly slow green line
There's a mountain range in the perforated rubber
of danger by the door
and the convention center stop greets you with a woman
who says, “Your career in psychology is going places”
This vehicle Adam and Eve screeches
There are no hands in the stability nooses
We’re all wearing New Balance
A visual diagram below the alarm
explains how to pull the alarm
where preference says having a dog or baby is the same as being old
How I gotta look like a dirtbag to prove I'm not one
is this world’s logic, reversed
I only steal from conglomerates
including sitting in the empty better seats
at my beloved Fenway Park
