I remember being laughed at

because I was so intent

on kicking the ball

as hard as the adults did

that I would involuntarily

grunt loudly

with each foot strike;

a boy

wanting them to see

that like them, I was

a man

I remember wondering

what everyone was shouting about

back in 1986

My Portuguese

already

not what it should be

I may not have understood much,

but these were the moments

that allowed me to find a home,

in a game.

A game

that I never

needed a language

to play

It was a home

I would not see again

for a long while.

By the time I moved away

from the second place

I remember as home at age 12,

my obsessions

had moved on to baseball.

All my friends played,

the Red Sox

were on almost every night,

and

I walked up the ramp at Fenway;

how could I resist?

It never felt

quite

the same though,

never allowed me

to connect

with anyone

in quite the same way

With such ease

Without needing language