covering home plate

as a kid
you once found a pair
of women's
underwear
and stockings,
a set of heels
behind the drugstore
where you played
stick ball.
there may have been
a girdle there too,
although
you wouldn't even
know what that was
at that age.
they were all
neated piled up
below the strike
zone that you had
spray painted
on the wall.
they sat on your
virtual home
plate, as if
someone had stepped
out the clothes
and disappeared.
your friends
and you scratched
your heads, removing
your gloves and
hats, staring
at one another
until someone said,
hey get a stick
and gets this stuff
out of here.
lets play ball.