Phillies versus Mets. Jones knocked in four runs
in New York’s 5-2 win. We four leaped
from our third-base box seats, shouted like Huns
having conquered Rome, then joined bleating sheep
who didn’t keep seats for fireworks, winding
to the lot behind Shea. We chose to stay,
sitting on our Chevy’s fenders, finding
Orion before the blazing display
ignited the night. I thought of Franklin
in Philly, inking the declaration.
I saw Washington viewing stern Britain’s
navy crowding the near bay, our nation
on the brink. Cinder pellets tapped our laps
and shoulders, rhythmed off our Met-blue caps.
Roger Armbrust
October 31, 2010
