Craig Cotter


Dear Mr. White,


Today at work
signed my name

140 times.
On contracts. On promotional letters.

I signed
my autograph

invented
for

becoming
the next

rightfielder for the Tigers
after Kaline retired.

*

I was 14
when Mr. Kaline

retired.

*

I used
to practice

my signature
on the sweet spot

of baseballs.
Then we'd play

and by the end of the day
my signatures were gone.

*

It turns out
I did not play

hard
ball

after 11th grade
when I was

16.
My last

at-
bat

a walk.
I missed

the sign
for the

delayed
double-

steal.
The other

dude
was thrown out.

He
inquired

as did
the coach

as to
why I missed

the sign.
I could

not
explain

the coach
had not taught me

correctly.

*

Now
let us

move
forward

33
years.

My current
love interest

an apparently
straight

rocker
Jerry Wu

who is
teaching me

(much better
than that baseball coach)

HERE COMES THE SUN.
He sat

on my couch,
me on an ottoman

a foot apart,
our bare feet

2 inches apart.
It's hard to learn

when I get lost
in the beauty

of my teacher.
I had

to
tilt

my head
so my progressive

lenses
could

bring
his

toes
into

focus.
They are

perfect
as his fine

slender
fingers.

*

Thinking
he will love me

just like
thinking

I would
replace

Al.

*

We're all
going

the way
of

Penn
Station.

*

I wish
I could

give-up
or trade-in

being
the

right-
fielder

for the Tigers
to have Jerry love me.

But that
boy-

hood
dream

seems
not

to
be

worth
any-

thing
in

trade.
No

fair!

*

Figuring

trying
to

figure

how
the

Universe
works—

I'd rather
pretend

during my
guitar lesson

that I
just live with

Jerry
and he

does
all

the
playing.

*

Last time he:
asked me to move closer,

touched my fingers
to help me with a new chord,

our bare toes nearly touched.





Craig Cotter was born in 1960 in New York and has lived in California since 1986. New poems have appeared in Hawaii Pacific Review, Hawai'i Review, Poetry New Zealand, California Quarterly, Eleven Eleven, Caliban Online, Columbia Poetry Review & Tampa Review. His fourth book of poems, After Lunch with Frank O'Hara, is currently available from Chelsea Station Editions.
 
 
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