← v17n2, Fall 2018
Poetry · Volume 17, Number 2

Distortion

I won’t forget listening

to a Brewers game

as the sun sunk over

the jack pine ridges

of the Upper Peninsula.

The signal glowed

fainter with each ray

disappearing. I was

northing with Bob Uecker

and when the light

dimmed well past nine,

Milwaukee was losing

and so was I, winking

slow across the shoreline,

my ears wrecked in the static

of a bobblehead giveaway.