blue ball
he tee’d-off
inside my 18th hole,
his 9 iron
casting divots
upon my wet hot sands ~
and while he focused
a hole in one on my par 4
419 yards
from downswinging me
a pivotal orgasm,
his backswing dis-aligned
when he felt my tempo
shift inside my tee box;
and there
his little white ball choked,
turning blue,
sinking, slinking
toward the bottom
of a chokeholds pond
never to be played
where it lays
