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The papers had him
signing autographs
years after Ebbets Field
had been buried forever.
So onto the concrete highways
I went in search of him.
I waited in lines filled
with people holding
bats, balls and photos
waiting for a hobby high.
Between shoulders
I could see that
old time Dodger
signing and smiling
just like it was
Knot Hole time again.
The I grabbed my seconds
as my turn came up
and our shadows met
on paper and pen,
on the past and present,
on the moment.
His voice was as warm
as yesterday's memories.
His eyes were as clear
as my vision.
His face turned back
the years for both of us.
Afterwards, I wandered away
and got lost in a crowd
too young to share
my dreams with.
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