Harry Kalas ٥ Alfred Lee

The voice of Harry Kalas
A subsiding dull
Lulls me to sleep during another
Motionless Sunday afternoon.

A cicada vibrates oscillates outside in the trees.
The wind rustles through
Like the deep blue ocean my body sinks into
As a blanket covers me
Leaving my bare feet exposed.

The one two pitch.
Swing, and a miss.

My head digs deeper into the sofa cushions as his deep subdue approaches,
Hovering
Over me like a weight hanging from a string

Slowly swinging constantly
Back
And forth.

Bat and ball meet with a quick, hollow
Clack.

Line drive
Down the third base line.

My eyes slow sideways towards the artificial green surface of the Vet inside the television screen.

The screen windows breathe in
Allowing the wind to find its way to my toes
And out
To where the cicadas are.

That’s the end of the fourth inning
One run two hits no errors no one left one base
Phillies two
Dodgers Nothing

His voice moors into me.
I’m not going anywhere.