Drunks spurt praise on crunchy beige grass
Tilting glances at watered fairways.
Atop the ridge at hole 8,
Some bro swings an escort's bra in overhead circles. Black belly-blouse remains on.
His friend draws swirls on her right areola.
She stands still, unconcerned.
On the paved walkway next to hole 18,
A twenty-nothing is carried out on a stretcher.
Poisoned during an 80 degree February,
She's a victim of fever and fervor.
Rickie, Phil, Bo,
Viewers chant, react, and follow.
'Quiet' signs are poised for futile requests
A leashed toddler cries, Bo shanks the putt.
Never forget the wasted at Waste Management.