I step up
in the cold, behemoth dome,
a fiery determination in my eye,
for whatever difficulty will be thrown at me.

My heart pounds.
This kid can heave;
he zips the ball to the catcher,
as I step up,

“Strike!”

“Okay’’ I say to myself.
I make a brief adjustment,
Ready for the next delivery,

“Ball!”

Now I’m for sure ready.
I step in,
dig my feet into the astroturf,
tap the plate,
deep breath,
go time.

I felt frozen in time.
Like the pitcher slowed down just for me.
And then,

He releases.
A beautiful fastball.
More beautiful than any girl could be,
more beautiful than all the roses in the world,
more beautiful than a stallion crossing the finish line,

and for a split second,
The dome went black.
And all I could see,
was this optic yellow ball.
Flowing towards me like waves hitting the shore,
I load.
Weight back.
And finally,

BLANG!

ball soars into right field,
as I image a Vin Scully call,

“IT'S GONE”.

I trot around the bases, not too fast,
but fast enough to greet my teammates at home plate.
With high hands and open arms.
For the moment I relished in the experience.
My first,

      Dinger