I remember in high school when we played a doubleheader at El Rancho. What a name. Poor school. We ate lunch in between games. My teammates were jealous because my sack lunch was the best. I ate the biggest Oreo cookie ever that day. I ate a granola bar in between this post and the earlier post from today. Now I’m going to play basketball. I’d rather be playing in my baseball (not slow-pitch softball) game, but my team isn’t very good and we missed the playoffs. But this week was very good to me. I have a new flash in Dogzplot about circus people. I was also nominated for my second Pushcart. I tell my sports fan amigos that don’t follow writing, that my status in the world of poetry is that of a AA prospect. Maybe even AAA. Hopefully someday, the Bigs. In the world of poetry, I want to reach the status of starting second-baseman for the Dodgers. But I’d even love to be a reserve. I always thought I’d be a ballplayer, never a poet:
That makes me slightly sad.
Enrique Romo is not my dad.