The Prime Time

Years ago I could sit
All day on that chair
My body settled in cushions
Much bigger then than now

Half awake I hear the radio
Lucille, once again
Picked a prime time to leave
I fall back, half asleep

The audience yells, I come to
Higher they try to persuade
But on the couch he says lower
And from the kitchen she calls higher
Only Bob Barker knows for sure

Outside I play amongst the sound
Of locusts (or something clattering)
Once again the ball lands in my glove
Another perfect game,
At least twenty that summer

She calls for me
Fresh Lemonade,
And that chair once again

Out of the window I could see
He picked something from the ground
She starts to stir in the kitchen
I can smell that it’s close to lunch

We talk baseball over gnocchis
She is impressed with how much I know
And he is sure that the Phillies
Will sweep the double header that night

They teach me how to play backgammon
And let me win, once or twice
Back in the chair I dream
Of double sixes upon the dice

I hear them chatting on the porch
They have the game on the radio
Harry announces the line up
As we bite into juicy pears

The Phillies must have lost that night
He complained about the pitching
She complained about the umpires

But still we knew
It was a good night
After all what more could a boy want
Than summertime with his Grandparents