13, Not 3

Alex Rodriguez
played small ball
in my hometown.
60,000 people, papermills, one college, Wisconsin.
I was 7 when his smile and swing
lit up the local batting cages:
power, potential, hope.
I had 14 different rookie cards,
and my 6th grade biography
featured a 3 ft. drawing of
the best shortstop of all-time.
Then money and drugs
rolled in like early afternoon clouds,
graying the hometown hero.
His eyes have been sad
for years now, heavied
with doubt and divorce.
My perfect symbol;
the fall from youth
and grace
bats clean up.

And he will break all the records.