The Masters by Robert L. Dean, Jr.

It’s a beautiful late fall Sunday here in Augusta
and he’s driving balls off a tee in his back yard,
hits the water every time. But then, his yard
faces the city lake and there’s no fence
and it’s a small town but a big lake,
no way he can miss it. His swing

is not PGA caliber and he knows it, knows
this is Kansas and not the National in Georgia
and there’s no green jacket waiting for him
in the clubhouse, never will be, but that’s not
the point. The point is

to fill up this dammed creek
with dimpled Titleist Pro V1s
and maybe, if he’s lucky,
smack a smug-faced big-city interloper
on the jogging path in the teeth,
an amazing hole-in-one,
let’s see that on the replay, Jim.