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
2 comments:
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.
Good point. Thanks.
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