Fancy Fielder
By Bryce Martin
1949,
He is mine,
Ruth Ann said, my dream in a tux,
Eddie Waitkus, ballplayer deluxe.
He moved well around first.
Too well, perhaps,
For a dame with a thirst,
A desire for certain chaps,
Those in uniform
Of Lithuanian descent,
With smooth athletic form.
No words spoken, not a hint,
Until one night a note appeared
Asking him to indulge a whim.
Her bullet split his boutonniere.
She was so happy for her and him.