Section D, Seat 32…

Imagine your life, and mine as well,

was written to be erased

and that’s what is called history,

a great lie that billions of us are

explained in the violence of heroes,

here or there at someone else’s

great home run just sitting

in section D, seat 32 or 33

or wherever – it doesn’t matter,

a seat sat in by so many, many others

who were plumbers or truck drivers,

mothers or eager kids with mitt ready

hoping for a foul ball that never

comes our way, but we never forget

we were there even if someone

sweeps away our rubbish and sells another

ticket for another game on another

day for someone else to sit in.