Watching golf
is worse than death,
or so I imagine.
Watching my only son
play in a middle school
golf match
on a Monday evening,
after work, and
driving 40 minutes
to the middle of nowhere
has got to be
worse than death,
giving birth,
filling out tax returns,
and watching
the squirrels.
At least the squirrels
get to scamper
up the trees
and “accidentally”
chuck acorns at my
pathetic head.
It’s a nice view
but only nature can make noise
during this
seriously quiet
competition.
Maybe I’ll spot
a pine warbler,
or a crow will caw
(laugh) at me.
I should have brought
two beers.
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