They lie in a cart online and some mornings
I pull them out, weigh them, feel in my palms
look down silver shafts and stand in the box
at Bethpage Black or even Merion

where I caddied as a boy and had no clue
what it meant, what men do to chase
the ineffable before slipping them back
into their expensive bag to return to work.

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Poet’s Notes:

An image of the original paper draft is below.
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new-doc-133_1

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