It was getting late.

Way too late for us to be playing baseball,

we should've quit maybe half an hour ago.

In that distant, more innocent age we

knew our parents wouldn't really be too

worried but they would be angry because

we were breaking the First Commandment:

      Be home before dark, be back

      before the streetlights come on.

Our field was built for day

games and didn't have lights.

The plate faced due west so the batter

could just make out the pitches against

the crimson glow of the now setting sun.

Although a fielder was still able to judge fly balls

and handle grounders, he found it tough to track a

hot liner streaking toward his tired crew-cut head.

We were down to five a side.

A pitcher, two in the infield and two in the outfield.

Own side catches, pitcher's hands and right field out.

When David leaves we're five to four.

Jimmy yells “Invisible second baseman!”

Ricky yells back “Not with you cheaters!”

An invisible runner runs. An invisible fielder does

whatever the loudest voice in the game says he did.

Greg picks up his glove, he's ready to vamoose.

The loudest voice says “We gotta finish this game.

Invisible man playing second, he grabs anything

six feet 'round the base. I make the call, OK?"

      Onto the field trots an invisible

      man to help us finish our game.

Mike's on first, takes a pretty good lead,

sprinting for second ahead of the pitch.

There's a crack of the bat, then a thunk

and someone races to the nearest house.

The ambulance comes quick

but too late to save Mike.

Eight walk along leafy streets,

boy sweat drying cold on our skin

as crickets chirp the end of summer.

All the streetlights are lit.

They cast bright circles of light

that look like patches of frost on

the sidewalks taking us home.

We pass TV-flickered picture

windows, murmuring porches,

parched lawns comforted

by hissing sprinklers.

And we wonder if those footsteps

behind us are the invisible man's.

*                      

Before high school ends one of us will

die going too fast in his new used car.

Another dies losing a war.

Then one more by his own hand to

soothe a sorrow known to none.

The rest of us want to stay in

the game as long as we can.

To stay in the game that is only called

for a darkness as deep as the sunset was

the night we learned its immutable rules.

Everyone plays, nobody wins,

and the final out will be yours.

~