wheelchair bogey does a cha cha cha
old ladies laughing, none wearing a bra
old men watching sports, saying rah rah rah
let’s enter these geezers in the Mardi Gras
Run and hide
duck for cover,
the Bogey Man
has arrived.
He ignores your pleading
may leave you bleeding,
your fate
well he'll decide.
In the middle of the night
without a chance to fight,
your future
is in his hands.
Well he's no common fool
he makes his own rules,
a game you cannot win.
So this is how he plays
he's demonic in his ways,
a portrayal
I should believe?
My husband had a childhood friend named Bogey Higgins.
Bogey Higgins was there on a daily basis for him when he was four.
He appeared when his beloved grandmother died.
“He went away when my mom said he was imaginary.”
My husband does not often speak of Bogey Higgins.
But when he does, his face shines like an Amazon butterfly.
One day I asked “How old was Bogey Higgins?”
“I don’t know, “he told me “an old guy.”
This surprised me. If he was make believe, why was he old?
“You mean he was not a kid?”
He shook his head ‘no’. “He was an adult.”
For the first time I realized Bogey Higgins was probably spirit.
When it comes to golf, I am such a sap.
I hate it whenever my ball is in a sand trap.
It’s bad enough when I either hook or slice.
I am aware that my swing does not look nice.
How I would like to shave points off my game.
What I do out on the course will bring me shame.
The word I hate most is “bogey”.
I don’t want to hear it when it is said around me.
Thinking I knew you from your smile
you wormed your way in with guile
my bete noire*, my bogey man
long of tooth and without a clan
I let you in, a worm with style.
le grand faux pas*, angel vile,
seeming weak, yet, so versatile.
Hobgoblin of dread, bogey man
Thinking I knew
Shrink back now into your defile
of sagging skin and toothy smile.
But, I have seen a reviled hand
and my open heart still here stands
wishing sweetness all the while
Thinking I knew
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