Improv Post One Week Ten

This is an improv of the pastoral "Smoke" by Philip Levine. I like how this was written a lot like a letter, so I wanted to copy that idea.

Can you believe that once Wrigley Field never had lights?
It didn't. Not until 1988 when the crowd could see each other
after nine, or was it ten? It's hard to tell, because no one 
could see the hands. When I sat in the stands, while the grass
on the field was mowed over by men in cleats and polyester, 
I watched the numbers move and bounce like the squirrel 
in left field. As it scurried up the advertisement for the Home
Depot, or Lowe's, or maybe even Starbucks, I could make out
the brief turn of the head, or swish flick of the tail, and quickly
thanked the halogen lights before catching the foul.