Around For the Playoffs
My last baseball season. Way things are going, maybe I won't even be around for the playoffs. Lookit that! That Ichiro, he sure can hit, ain't never seen no one like 'em. Daddies of those slant-eyed bastards tried to kill me in the Pacific in '42, would have if they could, and now their kids are playing with our kids at Yankee Stadium. Agnes, whadda ya think? Ah, why'm I askin' ya, ya never gave a hoot for baseball, just kept the beer cold and the bratwurst hot, and smiled real nice.
At the end there, you had almost as many prescription bottles as I do. Remember how hard it was to keep count: two blue with breakfast, a yellow with lunch, a little white one every two hours, the big black one after dinner? I'm sure that was to make you sleep, more for me than for you I guess. And, now you sit in your silver frame, beside the TV, just as pretty as ever, never ever going to change. I put you there so's I can watch my two loves both at the same time. Getting dark early now. Winter comin' on. I'll have one more beer while I can still appreciate it.
Will you be
standing at the gates
with a cold one for me?