After the Red Sox

blew their season

by losing three straight

in the playoffs

to Chicago,

it rained

in our part of Maine

for days.

“Coincidence,” I said

over coffee down at

Archibald’s One-Stop.

“Think what you like,”

Homer Jones replied,

buttoning up

his slicker.

Then he walked out

and never spoke

to me again.

Gerald George lives in East Machias. He has been a writer, editor and administrator in Washington, D.C., and is a citizen of the Red Sox Nation. His poems have appeared in Aroostook Review, H.O.M.E. Words, Narramissic Notebook, and Wolf Moon Press Journal.