Kid had a baseball bat

in his bag slung on his shoulder

on the coldest day of the year.

Any other time of year

I would say he was headed for the park

to take his cuts.

He had on a good pair of sneakers

sweats and a hoodie

more athletic than I.

In ten years or so

I might be cheering him on as he

stands in the batter’s box at Yankee Stadium.

On my final visit to Cooperstown

I may see his plaque on the wall

never knowing who he really was.

Never knowing that I saw him

riding the uptown with a baseball bat

on the coldest day of the year.

Go get ‘em, kid.