Don’t let them fool you
their polo jackets
and 30 dollar socks
cover their torsos 
and hairy legs

They look like gentlemen
with accounting jobs

Some give legal counsel
Others drill your teeth

They play golf at twilight
walking in the cool of a summer day
frustrated by the remnants of freedom 
they missed

Swinging a golf club
and bashing a ball
cannot satisfy their wasted time

During their day
they talked to clients

Some smelled bad breath 
mixed with Novocain

All of them are numb
from meetings
and bosses 
who believe

Most of them 
have forgotten
their dreams

The golf course beckons
to ignite their passions
walking in the footsteps 
of who they were

The night smiles 
at these wayfarers

As darkness falls
luck loves a loser
their balls fly straighter
their game improves 
and miracles mesmerize
an enormous drive
a hole in one
and mischief 
enters their minds

We are not adults
to the bottom line

We will bare are bottoms
find a hole
and do our business

The next day
these men of work
laugh at their commute
honking at the
people in their way

They got something back
that they thought they had lost

At 4 AM
the maintenance man
changes the holes
He smells something foul
in the dark

It must be raccoons
or opossums
he thinks
sticking his hand 
where it should not go

The hole
is warm
and soft

The stink
permeates his skin
He can’t get it off

“Damn teenagers,” he yells
and the shadows
the trees
and the lost balls

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