you play the game to play the game
Once (not that long ago, perhaps) the summers went on
Without end, without disruption, and each day came
Fully equipped with a high sky, the blue so all-encompassing,
So all consuming, that lazy fly balls seemed to disappear
As if God had scooped them up like so many routine grounders.
We played twenty-one, in a field long since abandoned
To crownvetch and scrub grass—five points…