by Patrick Connors
I Remember Where I Was
Saturday afternoon at the ballpark
Hungering for a Spadina hot dog
With sauerkraut and honey mustard
Forgetting, for some reason
why I can’t get one
Move over to the open concession
I stand next to my two cousins
Trying to be the other brother
A part of the conversation
or at least not apart from it
When, suddenly, Arencibia hits
His first home run, on the first pitch
of his career