On First

Shivering in the stands

of old Busch Stadium (long since

debris), we waited

for a miracle to break

the mist – for Mays to slam it

to the suburbs. Almost wishing

the haze from foul territory

cigarettes would snag us

in their glow. The radiance

of roasted peanuts poked around

for someone to drape, but only

nauseated my brother. The cries

of vendors competed with the downpour:

Popcorn! Cold beer! Coke! Souvenirs!

The teams in saintly white never

took the field. No bat swung, no

bubble popped. My first game

had no score – merely a rain check

never to be redeemed – yet still

sits atop the record books.