Opening the Skybox

                                       Pair 'em up in threes
                                                                          Yogi Berra

                      She calls yogurt Yogi
                      because she likes to pair up three spoons
                      in two bowls evenly spaced on a diamond counter

                      Her hands are jammed as she swipes
                      splinters of chocolate mint off bleached
                      white hotdog boats heaped with sauerkraut
                      She rubs her thumbs with a rosin bag
                      to twist ball jar lids screwed down tight
                      preserving crackerjacks boxed in beer cups
                      glued to a slippery corduroy runner

                      She dribbles raspberries on sour apple
                      slices lost then found on a highball shelf
                      She opens a loaded cabinet painted
                      red on the corner of a battered cage
                      where feathered mascots strut on deck
                      in a circle of sticky tobacco spittoons

                      She signals the concession manager
                      to bring in gameday sidewalk signs
                      and stand them up at every entrance

                      The signs read
                                                Join Us This Season
                                                Under the Lights
                                                In Skybox Seats
                                                Free to the Public