jefferson burdick was a lawn mower part,
like all of us
crickets huddling in the grass
can’t hear the harleys.
i like the state Burdick died in,
plowing through borders,
stuffing baseball cards from his own collection into binders,
a gift and legacy and all that.
he didn’t bother using sterile gloves.
*for more on jefferson burdick,
see broken bats baseball
“maybe down the hall from picasso“