sounds of summer

you fall asleep
to the sound of
a cracked bat
and the announcer
saying there goes
another fly ball.
you doze off
for an hour
and awaken to
find yourself still
in the same
inning with a
new pitcher,
a lefty,
spitting and
scratching, adjusting
his glove, his
pants, his shirt,
his hat.
one hundred and
fifty-eight more
games to go,
so many more
sweet naps.