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bottom of the ninth inning |
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at which I stray through the crowd |
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first it was what I call quiet |
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then it was biblically loud |
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you should have seen how they tumbled |
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you should have seen how they danced |
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you should have seen them all luscious and lean |
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as they flew by the seat of their pants |
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it was not the boilin' frustration |
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it was not "they cannot care less" |
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it was not the face of that reverent place |
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In the horrible state of undress |
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I moved in a way I call mindless |
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I flatter myself a move true |
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I carved out a "J" in the spectators' fray |
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because that's just the thing that we do |
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yes, I carved out my name in the ninth of the game |
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because that's just a thing that we do |
