I’m not wearing a costume, beamed the Fool,
Who jested with the court at Hole #14.
Then off she sliced and duffed
Keeping pace with the Dew Sweepers
Glad, Mad, and Wished I Had
Wrapped a little tight,
Tripped up by a fried egg in the cat box.
Flapping her tongue at barkie’s, sprinkler holes and fluffy rough.
Pardon me, Ma’am.
Ms. Banana ball, Rainmaker
Can an Ostrich burn worms?
Does your ball do a Victory Lap before giving you lip.
Is your golf matrix flexible?
Is your rescue club also your chicken stick.
Are the answers to the riddles elusive?
Do Oven Mitts help your swing?
Does a Hockey Stick make you a putting fool?
Tell me, does your ball know how to bowl?
Are you a Fresh air fool,
A Hosel Rocket fool,
Does your Duck Hook veer off into the drink on purpose?
Are you a Texas Rocket fool, like me.
Well, suck it up.
Drink Birdie Juice.
And tether your mind to small joy.
I can’t she cried, her joy, one ringy dingy late,
Had to pay Jill today.
Ah, the woes of fools and technology.
Wait, I teased,
Does a backwards lunch end with a liquor infused breakfast?
Why yes, she grinned, today, it does.
Ó C.S. De Dona 3-30-23
Corney Press 