I teed it up today
and got paired with a guy
who wasn’t sure—
“I don’t know if you want to talk or not,” he said.
“Oh—I don’t care.”
“Well—I thought I should ask.”
When he got permission to talk, he narrated each golf shot.
This guy was beaten senseless, certain sure, just for being himself.
“Normally I’m on the left side of the fairway, but now I’m on the right,” he said.
It went on like this, until the next hole.
“Whatcha reading?” He asked.
“Poetry,” I said.
“Did you learn anything?”
“It’s mostly entertainment.”
“I listen to podcasts, myself.”
By hole 9, we got onto the subject of God, drugs, politics, and morals, after he drank 3 beers
but the problem was, once the subjects were broached, he was too afraid to talk about them.
He kept asking permission, even when he wasn’t asking permission.
It made my skin crawl. I scratched the back of my neck to check that I still had a spine.
He seemed like a standup guy. He had a girlfriend, so he was okay.
I don’t have a girlfriend, so I’m not okay.
Tell the wrong person you don’t have a girlfriend and they think you might be dangerous.
I like thinking about that.
“Do you think I can tee-off from the mat?” He asked.
“Do what you want,” I said.
“I don’t know, what if someone sees me?”
“All the better.”
I could tell he didn’t like how free I was. Then the crows ate his hotdog.
We got to the 15th hole and this girl showed me where my ball was.
She was cute, with tight black pants and a neon top.
I got her number.
Bible study is hostile towards me and the golf course is my friend.
The guy I was playing golf with, belonged in bible study.
He was trying to do the right thing and say the right thing.
For all I knew, he was a maniac with good manners.
When we got near the pro shop, I gave him the slip, while he was in the bathroom.
It felt good to be an asshole.