He snapped his head
just before
the ball hit the plate,
a fuzzy mass
that might have sprung
from centerfield
or at the edge of vision,
sucking him
into a sequence of angles
turned in on themselves.
No matter
what he told himself
or the steps of thought
he measured to that point,
it happened.
His head shot up and held
like a deer
cast in headlights.
He could feel his eyes
wrap it all inside.
He could hear the smack smack
of the second baseman’s glove,
the infield bleating,
“Hey babe hey babe hey babe.”