On a Squirrel Crossing the Cart Path
In Summer, at Fennwood
It is what he does not know,
Crossing the cart path under the oak trees,
About the laws of Physics
About Jack Nicklaus and Tiger
About birdies, bogeys, swing plane,
That wins my pity. I engage
At once in whirling squirrel-pity.
Surely there is something to live for
This suicidal nut-case
That would keep him from his end
That makes him squished
Such a tragedy, oh the humanity!
I who cannot see him as he cannot see myself
Repose in the ignorance that is a fast paced golf cart.
It is what squirrels don’t know of golfers
Composes the visible horror of the world.
...Just hit him!