Now It Can Be Told: A Poem for Tom Clark
<p>In 1974, a year after they’d beaten my Mets in seven</p>
<p>I irked my mother rooting for the Finley A’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’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’d BART with Owen Hill and bleacher-shout at Ruben Sierra.</p>
<p><em>Champagne and Baloney</em> 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>