Monday, January 11, 2010

The lead-in to an afterthought

If I were a poet at an early age
the golf balls we collected
he more than me
for it was his market
Hey Mister
twenty-five cents each
yelled from the corner and brace at the eighth tee
from which most of the balls collected
had been dispatched with a hook
into the stream we waded
until one hundred and forty exchanged hands
and transformed into a single-shot .410
I would have seen the symmetry


TenMile said...

You need to age a bit more. Youth isn't suppose to see the balance, that's a providence of age.

You're getting there.

bastinptc said...

Good point. Thanks.