Poetry by D.L. Martinez

*755

 

 

A drive to left

marks 755.

Aaron, Bonds,

the past, the present,

the clean, the questionable;

like a minister

and a cheap hooker

colliding,

like Ted Haggard,

before his fall,

meeting Heidi Fleiss,

before her redemption,

seedy, seedy,

fucking needy.

Who gives a shit

what the fan’s think?

Fame is illusive, but

money is forever.

Swing away, batter

Swing away.

The fans speak,

but say nothing.

Fuck you, Barry,

I hate you, Barry,

Congrats, Barry.

I love you, Barry.

You’re a hero, Barry.

Articulate, inarticulate,

fan speak doesn’t matter.

What do the fans

know anyway?

Aaron wasn’t the first,

Bond’s won’t be the last,

A-Rod has hit 500,

and the chase is on.

The eternal struggle

of old vs. young.

Ruth. Aaron. Bonds. Rodriguez.

Swing away, batter,

swing away.

 

 

 

D.L. Martinez is an occasional writer, part-time poker player, and full-time engineer living in Aurora, CO. His writing has previously been (or soon will be) published in The Flask Review, Poet’s Ink Review, and the Boston Literary Magazine. He maintains a website that is perpetually under construction at www.dlmartinez.com.

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