- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Baseball Jazz on Freeman Street
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"Who's your favorite player, Man?"
Jimmy Dunda, Man,
Jimmy Dunda
threw some heat,
chin music too when he had to,
and went to Providence
on a baseball scholarship.
I was taught to bunt by my father,
rhymed with runt
every third weekend.
But Jimmy Dunda,
sonofabitch pitched
as good as Koufax did
and went to Providence.
Lost his game though,
came back to Jersey in the spring,
Rhode Island dead is what he said,
hit some fungos on Freeman Street
and pine-tarred my old man's cumber bund for me.
But hardball wasn't the same he said,
slept til three and drove all night
pitch-black mad, Man,
a mad man
pitch-black mad,
plucked him from
the Turnpike dead,
Jimmy Dunda
who went to Providence.
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