maybe a little mustard
all of it
oozing
down the side of your face
while you reach for a napkin
a second too late
in a crowd murmuring
from a thousand point of focus
around a field manicured
to the smallest stitch of grass
kiss cam
home run
seventh inning stretch
you look at me sideways
and can’t help but laugh
in this summer
that is ours
while it lasts.