is all you get before the public address announcer calls your name and the music has to end, and there’s so much to accomplish,
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calling the shots, catcher is conduit between all, holds the
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It stung the first time. Second grade. I was picked middle of the pack for kickball. In that last inning I was on deck. One out already.
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I was maybe 13
during that last
Lil Penny stands in line at Java the Hut waiting to order a thimbleful of espresso. He feels a tap on his shoulder, turns around.
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We watched our first derby from my Grandpa Bud’s third floor room in the Good Samaritan Elder Care facility, which overlooked the Carver County fairgrounds.
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The embarrassing shine of new clubs,
clunking against my shoulder, I scan
A pocket sized chapbook with a dark, blurry cover design, concussion fragment’s (elsewhere press 2022) look belies its heft in a way that is apt considering its speaker’s many normalized repressions.
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