Pete Rose Offers His Picks for the Post Season on National Television
He scuttles the night with moans
"Oh Baseball! Oh Baseball."
Waking, he reaches for the phone.
Into the speed dial he says,
"Oh Baseball. Oh Baseball."
He showers, remebers the locker room
and the kamakazi fever,
cursing the Yankees.
He gets a cab outside the hotel.
He's wearing a Reds polo.
No one seems to see him.
In the television studio
the cameras are on
he has memorized his picks.
The Twins. The Padres.
He believed in WMDs.
If he were a betting man
he would have bet things
had turned out better.
2 comments:
Gil, I don't like baseball all that much, but there is a deep sadness here, both personally and universally. Aren't we all betting men? Doesn't everything turn out worse? Gil, you are a master of beautiful sadness.
Christ, Rick. You're a master(bater..HA!) of beautiful gayness.
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