The Cards I Carried

(in memory of summers, Shea, and childhood heartache) Baseball ruled the world back then, At least the world I wandered in— The cracked gray walks of 812, The bark of trees, the sky so blue. Me and Anthony made a pact, The kind of thing kids swear intact: First card you pull becomes your guy— Your team, your soul, your reason why. Ten cents a pack, the wax was thin, We cracked them open, grinning grins. His? Ron Cey in Dodger blue, Mine? Duffy Dyer, tried and true. And just like that, my heart was sold, To Shea’s green grass and orange-gold. T…