(Children chasing, people screaming)
Good American fun
At a baseball game (pee-wee)
I sat on the top row of a twelve-seater
Bleacher, clustered between strangers
Declaring war on second graders.
To the right, a blank score board
Screamed the depression of a
Poor town's last winter, while
In contrast
The smell of concession stand
Popcorn enticed the eager middle
Schoolers with loose quarters.
All people were eager to lose their
Own frustrations in a children's game;
They would traumatize the left-hand hitters.
I looked left, to the other end of the field,
Opposite the obvious winners.
Beside the cluster of flowers where
I got stung by the yellow jacket,
Behind the fence where my brother
Kissed his first crush,
You stood there.
Your dirty blonde hair was ruffled
Wild. Your eyes, hungry.
All stared, frozen.
You stumbled forward.
(Children chasing, people screaming)
No more fun.
Nothing ruins a mid-Atlantic spring day like a zombie infestation.