Henry Zender
Russell Thorburn

He kicks at the dirt, raising cigarette butts and candy wrappers at home plate. They drove all night from Oaxaca to lose to the Mexico City Kings, and he sees the long way back to that crowd in Oaxaca, will find the grave already dug for his mitt. So he dreams of his body exploding against the billboard, the ball dropping before him on the grass, the runners moving around the basepaths, their legs striving for the wheat-colored plate. He lifts up an arm, as if at the last minute he could catch some- thing other than the stare of a janitor with a broom.

ISBN 1-882983-23-8
44 pages/$6