by Gary Gillette
From my mother’s basement I fell into the Friendly Confines,
And I hunched in its bleachers till my beer-soaked hair froze.
Six miles from first place, loosed from its dream of October,
I woke to black caps and the nightmare Sox fans.
When I puked my guts out, they washed them off the seats with a hose.
Paying homage to Randall Jarrell…
Posted 5/13/08
Published in Fans, Free Verse, Chicago Cubs, Chicago White Sox, Chicago Cubs, Chicago White Sox | Link to this poem |
