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  • R.T.

On the Back Nine

“Golf-Bag” they called him,

and his name was ironic,

for a golf-bag was absent

and a club never not present.


Golf-Bag lived alone

and he lived it quite oddly;

lived it quite humbly,

alone and real jolly.


He’d have those days,

those days where he grew tired,

and so visited his course

with dog-legs for Golf Sires;


Visited with knickers and plaid newsboy;

with his nine-iron, and a five- to tee.

He dressed so, and so accoutered,

Always played a full eighteen.


But as fate would see,

seeing him ignore the world about,

it found the perfect day

to strike him dead by those around.


He often wore ear muffs,

this to block out sound,

and as he came to the Thirteenth,

the only hole without trees,

he missed his friend shout

“Fore! Golf-Bag! Fore!”

And fell dead to the ground,

missing all the birds,

missing all he’d seen.

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