by Philip Pecorino
The base: a place of welcome respite along the glorious route of transit when home is behind you til home once again. With each venture off base there is the aim, goal and plan: the next bag to reach and then beyond until back to where it all began.
Leave and stop off where there is time to rest til you score the object of the quest. Each beckons to you, made of whatever materials offered in the venue.
Sandlots see torn cardboard pieces serving as the diamond’s pointy places. At other times and spaces, bags or pillows will do.
On dirt field scratched boxes in the soil will serve as base and works of practical art.
Living room? Rocking chair for first, then sofa for second, roam on to third at the love seat til returning to the old shirt where the trip did start.
On the city street, front bumper of the Ford serves first, then on to the manhole cover in the street, a place for defender and runner to meet. Fire pump as third will do great, til returning to the sewer that served as the plate.
There and back and midst trip adventures to be sure: leads to take and tag ups to make. A good jump and then mad dash and slide are made with pick offs to evade. On such a path of an uncertain journey, on base is a nice place to be.
Published in Fans, Free Verse, The Game Itself, Youth | Link to this poem | 2 Comments