Reflections on the Contents of a Corporate Box at Giants Stadium

Lucas Smith


Resolutely drunk, playing at candour

above the green and maroon circus

maximus of Imperial America,

sit runaways, derelicts and a few straight As

made good on their promise,

a kernel of which cannot be mocked.

.                (I do not wish to mock promise tonight)

With hats on hearts for the anthem,

all the old-time foods are here:

Mustard, sauerkraut and onions

lined up for the bratwurst.

Crackerjacks, popcorn, Mint, That’s It!

They eat and compete to name all the retired numbers,

keep watch for Willie Mays on his stationary bike

in Willie Mays’ box next door,

then trade memories of freezing Candlestick

.                in July and wind and snow.

The visitors hit and scored their runs

the organist broke into a Bach partita

the box next door held Dodgers fans

McCovey Cove turned greener

five screens, inside and out

kept them abreast of all the action.

With the home team behind

in the sixth the derelicts and runaways, well, they left.

.                In the ninth the brawl broke out.

Imagine it from the owners’ perspective,

Rembrandts and Picassos jumping off the wall

going at it with water pistols full of paint thinner.

.                Don’t forget the winner.


Lucas Smith is a PhD candidate at the National Centre for Australian Studies. His writing has appeared in Australian Poetry Journal, The Lifted Brow, Australian Book Review, Cordite, Gargouille, Santa Clara Review and several others.

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