ninth inning
when the game is over, the game’s about to start; hit the ball squarely with a flat bat, a burnt bat, a bunt bat, a bat that; leaves all across the trees coming in so you can’t see, signs are hidden, the season’s pared down till you recognize the season; ; the ball can be blue, or dead red, or yellow like a city siren, a ways off; being who you are means grasping things: memory’s digital; it shivers, coiled in fingers; when you watch highlights, things get hidden behind their own corners; being ready to bat is a focus like building; when the game is over, the game’s about to start; yet again for the first time
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