And Tito Fuentes comes up looking like a bullfighter
  in his tight pants and small pointy shoes.
  And the right field bleechers go mad with Chicanos and blacks
  and Brooklyn beer-drinkers,
  “Tito! Sock it to him, sweet Tito!”
  And sweet Tito puts his foot in the bucket
  and smacks one that don’t come back at all,
  and flees around the bases
  like he’s escaping from the United Fruit Company.
  As the gringo dollar beats out the pound.
  And sweet Tito beats it out like he’s beating out usury,
  not to mention fascism and anti-semitism.