what do you do when you’re at the driving range
95% of the mats are taken
the one in front of you is not
a man comes onto it
in flip flops & a pitching wedge, drops a ball, hits it lazy one hand
turns, faces you, not even 2 or 3 feet away, straight ahead, and watches
ignore no eye contact be the ball you’re not being the ball danny
he makes stupid jokes comments questions thinks he’s adorable
not 2 feet away shoulders square intense scrutiny
walk away change clubs he’s still watching facing, not hitting his own, only watching you
makes jokey apology for being annoying
i say you know what? i come here to be by myself & hit balls & not think for a little while, NOT to meet people
he mumbled stammered got brave said some confused shit about finding random things on the sidewalk that brighen your day still thinks he’s adorable
walk away change clubs turn back to him still staring relentless
can’t swing can’t think slice topped ball after ball he never turns around
do something
see his head’s the ball, bend knees, soft hands, hit 5 wood like 200 yards on the fly
you want the rest of these?
what? so you’re just leaving?
have a good one
what? have a good one? that’s all i get?
what’s your name
heather
i’m james
see you around
