Haunted dreams pass,
in a breeze.
The new, the American pastime, I reach high in center field –
I cannot open my eyes, but take a chance and hold my glove
in the right place. The ball is caught.
And then, also just by chance, the ball falls out of my glove and
on my cap – balancing.
I must not move. How much time?
I mean I caught the ball. The ball is rolling off my head.
As it drops again I catch it in my glove.
It is morning.