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by Norman
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Sports · #2269951
Not for the faint of heart
There’s nothing really as serene
than playing golf at dawn,
before the mowers hit the scene
to trim the endless lawn.
Before the duffers and the pros
tear up the perfect grass.
Some guys are just your average Joes
but golf gives them some class.
It’s all about that silly score.
They want to keep it low.
I must sound like a jealous bore
but man, that game is slow.
They need to add a touch of doubt,
something to give it punch.
Let alligators prowl about
in search of mid-day lunch.
Or maybe on the seventh hole,
surrounded by the grass,
some quicksand there could take a toll.
You’d sink up to your ass.
What if we add a shooting range
up near the fifteenth green?
I know that may sound kind of strange.
You think that would be mean?
We have to liven up the game
and give it some more zest.
The current game is much too lame.
Put golfers to the test.
Let’s sprinkle in some old land mines
among the woods and rough.
Yeah, that would make some lively finds.
Boy, that would make it tough.
Your final score won’t count for much.
You’ll just try to survive.
Your handicap might be a crutch
… that’s if you’re still alive.

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