My round got rained out—
   rivers where fairways used to be.

Texas is soaked,
      but I’m still game-day dry.

Coffee, couch, and eyes on Wrigley.

You’re out there somewhere,
    white on red, (in a sea of blue)
    probably tucked behind third base
    or mid-row mayhem—

    Cards fans travel well.

You sent the flight info early (big sigh),
    so I’ll forgive the STL silence.

I’ll be watching,
     same seat as always,
     scanning for you

     like a Stro’s coach stealin' signs.

A flash of your smile would win the night.

But I’ll call it a win with a Cards rally,
    a lucky camera pan,

    or just knowing you’re yelling loud enough for me to hear.

Game on, Mari.

You’ve got my whole scoreboard.