Catcher's Mitt

a hundred years ago young men did as they were told

I was told to go over the hills to Matney to work for Mr. Carver

It was a long trek and I never made it.

I spent five days wandering in the woods

drinking from the creek and eating fruit from the trees.

It wasnt quite autumn and the leaves were just starting to turn

I whistled aimlessly and caught a few crawfish under a rock

funny little lobsters, I wondered how they made it this far

I got bit by a horse fly, he wouldnt let go of my body

I jumped in the water and drowned him

One day late in the evening a stranger passed by me

he was old and had a face like a catchers mitt.

I dont know if he was lost too, he didnt say anything

we were whistling the same song.

by Justin Hantz