where are you going now?

she likes golf.

in any weather,

sun or rain,

a cold wind.

okay,

she loves golf,

she's got the arms and legs,

and disposition

to be good at it.

she tells me about the front

nine, the bunker

on eleven,

the wedge,

the six iron.

she goes on and on

about the greens,

and the slow group

in front of her.

how far away to the pin

from the tee.

in the morning 

after looking out the window

for a whole three

seconds, i watch

her putting on

her golf pants,

her golf shirt,

her golf shoes and hat.

her gloves.

where are you going now?

i ponder, but

truthfully,

i don't even have to ask.