THE CATCHTonight I drive to the ballgame, the firstof the season here. The night grass shinesin the lights, and the white church far beyondright field glows against the early summersky. I can't keep score of how many timesI've thought it would be good to see a game,then go get married in that church. And nowI wonder if you've phoned and wondered whyI wasn't there and where I was. I amhere, love, way out west, waiting the weeksaway, my life between innings, betweengames of a day-night double-header.I feel like a high fly in magic flightmomentarily lost in the lightsbefore I return to earth, caughtin this field of dreams and your soft hands.
From Wrestling with Angels: New and Selected Poems (1995) by Doug Beardsley