Us Kids in Left Field
Snuck through windows after dark to pinch
Marlboros between thumbs and index fingers
Arced the glow of those half-smoked hot-boxed
Cigarettes over the chain link home run fence
Sprawled on trimmed grass passing a bottle
Between the boys we were and the men
We imagined ourselves to be. Once
Named Royal, Angel, Tiger, Twin
We made a point of tripping over the chalked
Foul line as we struck out for home at dawn.
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