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

 

 

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