Your Tee
By Chip the Muse
It is poetry month. As much as I agree, more than one poem published in year should be met with capital punishment, It will not deter me from bringing you Chip in verse.
We were a couple of strangers standing on the hill,
awaiting our chance to hit the white pill.
We teed off with a handshake and a nod,
all set for 18 on muni’s green sod.
With the second hole backed up in numbers of great wealth,
He handed me ancient flask and said, to health.
Eight deep and with time to kill,
I uncorked the flask and took a swill.
While my eyes flashed and ears smoked, I asked, what is that?
Aye laddie, just a little something I keep under me hat.
Ye see, a wee bit of the old nasty warms me game,
otherwise me drives are flat and me irons are lame.
It’s an aiming fluid preferred by the navy,
Careful sonny, too much makes the putting wavy.
When play resumed, my drive was quite a blast,
somewhere near the 100 yard marker, but past.
Was this timely dumb luck,
or a strong wind and a ball well struck
As the elixir settled and seeped into my bones,
my head and loin began playing musical tones.
Imagine never needing new equipment or gear,
standing pat, with what’s in our bags, year after year.
No new gimmicks, fads, white belts, or doubt,
confident in the belief your clubs carry the clout.
How would the manufacturers respond in fight,
would they try to outlaw booze, what a fright?
Good god, the nineteenth hole sponsored by Coke,
For the love of humanity, that is no joke.
Post round sips of soda or water,
Egad, why bother.
I began to convulse, sweat, and shake,
I steadied my weak knees with the aid of a trap rake.
What was more important, low scores or post round run,
my mind was swimming, my thoughts on the run.
Things back up again on the tenth hole,
Laddie, he said, a booster shot, you’re on a roll.
I was at a crossroads, booze or golf, which do I choose,
pick one, either way I lose.
Standing on the tee box driver and flask in hand,
I sought committee, this decision was too much for one man.
We skipped the back nine in search of truth near and far,
our hadj ended when we sat at the bar.
Ashen and heavily weighed, my thoughts were torn,
Soon came the wisdom of Mel with ideas new and unworn.
It’s the harmony we seek brother,
we can, she said, chase one, than the other.
Relax enjoy the journey, come what may,
someday soon, you’ll smile and recall this very day.
Come, my friend we must hurry, the tee box is open now,
give me swill, and we will really show this game how!
