Do the flowers change as I touch your skin:
They are rely buttercups. No sign of
death in them. They die and you know
by their death that it is no longer
summer. Baseball season.
Actually
I don't remember ever touching your
back when there were flowers (butter-
cups and dandelions there) waiting
to die. The end of summer
The baseball season finished. The
Bumble-bee there cruising over a
few poor flowers.
They have cut the ground from under
us. The touch
Of your hands on my back. The Giants
Winning 93 games
Is as impossible
In spirit
As the grass we might walk on.
*
It comes May and the summers renew themselves
(39 of them) Baseball season
Utter logic
Where a man is faced with a high curve.
No telling what happened in this game. Except one didn't
strike out. One feels they fielded it badly at second base.
Oceans of wildflowers. Utter logic of form color.
baseball i gave you all the best years of my life, edited by Richard Grossinger and Lisa Conrad
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