October Magic

When people tell me
baseball bores them

I understand

Ours is a secret society
we have our own language
spoken over pitchers of Old Style in bars
in our den 3 Bloody Marys in

it is the poetry of math

from the traditional verse
of AVG and HRs

to the scat
of sabermetrics

when the pitcher talks
into his glove

you read it in the catcher's nod

and when it works

it's glorious

and never thrown
down the center of the plate

we're a strange breed
brushing the corners

When people tell me baseball bores them

I understand

© 2013 Lee Kitzis

Hump Day Blues

I had a dream
I sang like
Howlin' Wolf

I didn't want it to end

I woke up
and took the bus
to work

the Slavic beauties
with torn looks
like somebody
just killed their dog

the same faces I see
every day

and nobody was singing

much of anything

and I didn't want it to end

I woke up
and walked into a warehouse
in the middle of nowhere

and punched the clock
nine minutes late

having collected grays

having collected checks

having collected the gritted teeth
of city bus drivers

and schizophrenic screams

I put on my whites

poured a coffee

and tried

© 2013 Lee Kitzis