Jeanne Iris is stirring the pot this week & has asked us to write about our favorite summer sport (she wrote about tubing, here). I have always been an unathletic slacker (I think it was in my teenage bylaws & I just never rewrote them), and while I do have memories of playing softball, I wouldn't call it a favorite. And, really, we know what my favorite summer sport is. I was really going to try to not write about it again, but my cranky teenage muse had other ideas. Sorry!
Babe Ruth League
My Mom can’t talk again.
She has screamed her head off
(not literally, but nearly).
I watch you pitch or play third,
wondering how soon I can
get my suicide from the drink stand.
I was pretty darn proud of you –
this is most definitely true –
but I was at the game
to see the other cute guys
(who weren’t my brother),
to drink that suicide,
and to enjoy a speechless
mother at the end of the day.
Join in the fun! Go here to read the prompt & check out other poets.
Note: A suicide was a squirt of each of the soft drink flavors in the dispenser mixed all together. The ones I remember from my youth were best because they had Cheerwine in them (a cherry flavored soft drink). Yum!
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