It was way too late to be playing baseball,

we should have given up half an hour ago.

In that distant, more innocent time we knew

our parents wouldn't truly be worried, they

would be mad because we had broken the

first, the most important commandment:

      Be home before dark. Be back

      before the streetlamps come on.

But we needed to finish the

game and we refused to quit.

Our field was intended for day

games, it didn't have any lights.

Home plate faced due west so the batter

could just make out the pitches against

the dying crimson glow of the sunset.

And a fielder was still able to judge fly balls

and grounders though it'd be tough to track a

liner streaking toward his tired crew-cut head.

We were now 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 decides to go home we're left five to four.

Ricky shouts “Invisible second baseman!”

Greg yells back “Not with you cheaters!”

An invisible runner runs. An invisible fielder does

whatever the loudest voice in the game says he did.

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

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 who

is about to teach us the rules of the game.

Mike's on first, takes a pretty good lead

and starts for second ahead of the pitch.

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

and one of us runs to the nearest house.

An ambulance comes quick but

not quick enough to help Mike.

Eight walk along leafy streets,

boy sweat drying cold on our skin

as crickets chirp the end of summer.

All the streetlamps are on.

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, no one wins,

and the final out will be yours.

~