cheat--quickly move his mitt 
inches closer to home plate
each time another pitch
misses the strike zone;

until the half-inning ends
and he takes off his mask
and--lo, I see that he
is me.  And you.
                        

I will believe in ghosts

after seeing you, my wife,
your smoke-grey hair all straggly,
swaying in front of me

in the dementia ward
while you try to remember who,
from a different world than yours,

I am.
                        

The three guys on my block I went
to grammar school and high school with
stared silently a whole minute
when I happened to say I loved to read books
on rainy days.

		So my breath quickened
when I heard two teachers disapprove
of a freshman they spotted reading Steinbeck's
“dirty books.”  I tracked him down, and soon
we were swapping novels. Then one day
his older brother took both of us
to see Swan Lake.

		While the three guys
that I no longer went anywhere with
now pointed me out as “a kike lover.”