Long before girls, my first love
was baseball. What I daydreamed about
was the diamond. The same could be said
for my dreams at night. Game winning
hits, sliding catches, RBIs and HRs.

Afternoons, we played the pepper game
against our chimney. There was broken
glass. It was the strike out box,
the breaking stuff, and the bender

met by a Louisville Slugger. "It’s gone."
We carried our idols on our back—
The Hammer. The Kid. And Yaz.
I changed into my uniform, while

driving shotgun to the game.
Bang the drum slowly! The Southpaw
takes a slow walk to the mound.
It’s time to get loose. Stretch.
Take some cuts. Throw the rawhide around.

Peter Whalen teaches Creative Writing and English at Milwaukee High School of the Arts. He received his PhD in English from UW-Milwaukee, where he was Editor-in-Chief of the Cream City Review.. His poetry has appeared in Barrow Street, Bramble, Modern Haiku, Poetry Motel, The Southeast Review, Reed, The Solitary Plover, and the Wisconsin Poets Calendar.