Now It Can Be Told: A Poem for Tom Clark

<p>In 1974, a year after they&rsquo;d beaten my Mets in seven</p> <p>I irked my mother rooting for the Finley A&rsquo;s</p> <p>Against the Dodgers in the Classic. She corrected me two ways</p> <p>We were a Senior Circuit family (as I now tell my boys)</p> <p>And I should grasp the Brooklyn lineage. I tried</p> <p>But didn&rsquo;t buy it. The Dodgers seemed white and square.</p> <p>The green-gold mustachioed men were the hipper option.</p> <p>This remained my guilty romance. Decades later</p> <p>I&rsquo;d BART with Owen Hill and bleacher-shout at Ruben Sierra.</p> <p><em>Champagne and Baloney</em>&nbsp;the bible of my Designated Heresy.</p> <p><a href="https://medium.com/@jonathan.lethem/now-it-can-be-told-a-poem-for-tom-clark-dcb2739886cb"><strong>Website</strong></a></p>
Tags: Tom Clark