Gerry and Reuven Goldfarb
In Taurus Stadium, with Aries up,
and Sagittarius on deck,
I hit the ball over the fence.
The pitcher, who was Steve Gaskin, said,
“That was a good one, Bob. Here’s another.”
It was Bill Tara’s face, squashed into a melon.
I bunted him down the first base line.
Next my old lady came sauntering in
and asked me for a piece of luck.
I told her to watch her form
and sent her down to the locker room.
When the big slugger finally came to bat,
all the fans had left the stadium,
but I called up one of my old friends
and asked him to pinch-hit…
then pretty soon they came drifting back in.
At the resounding crack of his bat,
Leo and Libra flew around the bases
and stepped on home plate, which was home.
Spruce St., San Francisco, 1970
Appeared in Spitball: The Literary Baseball Magazine.
