South Fork Poetry: ‘The Rub’
I just hit Jamie McElroy in the ribs.
I am rubbing the ball when my father
arrives at the mound, his frustration
with a son who can’t find home
apparent in his gait and gaze.
I walked three batters before I hit
Jamie McElroy and want to dig a hole
and disappear. What I get is a pep
talk that ends with You made this
mess, now you clean it up.
Thirty-five years later, I am standing
in line at the bank with paycheck in
hand, wondering what Jamie McElroy
is up to. You’re right, Dad. I made
this mess. But you didn’t help any.
Bruce Buschel is a writer, producer, director, and restaurateur who lives in Bridgehampton.