This is a story of a girl I know
(and you probably know her, too)
who came into my life not long ago
and stayed around for a year or two.
She’s loyal and kind with a feisty streak
(she’ll complain that I’m talking about her)
and a friend that I like to see every week
because it isn’t a good life without her.
But more to the point, this story is about
that fateful day in the sun
when this friend of mine knocked me out
and I thought that my short life was done.
The skies were blue and the wind was calm
on that dreamy, midsummer’s day,
when I heard over the phone nestled in my palm
my old friend excitedly say,
“Hello, hello! Good day to you!
And what a good day it will be!
So what do you say to a round or two,
or even, quite possibly, three
of disc golf, our favorite game by far?”
I said, “Great! I’m heading out the door!
And I don’t mind if we take my new car
so long as you let me keep score.”
Shortly thereafter, we arrived at the course
where we had enjoyed many a close game;
I always threw with a greater force,
she always had better aim.
In order to keep from being too wordy
and boring you and yours to no end
I’ll spare you the talk of every birdie,
par, bogey, and mulligan.
Instead, I’ll just cut to the chase
and skip the mundane in between
and tell you what happened to my face
that day on hole seventeen.
My disc sailed straight toward the hole
and my friend’s landed under some trees.
So my second shot was teasingly close to the goal
while my friend had to shoot from her knees.
My friend went first and let her disc fly
and it landed not far from my own.
Though, most everyone would be as impressed as I,
she let out an uproarious groan.
My friend had a second disc in her hand
but then, she let it go
and the air was shattered and also the land
by the force of my friend’s throw.
And so, as I prepared to take my turn
and aimed toward the basket ahead
I felt a dull pain and a slight burn
as a disc flew into my head.
Oh, somewhere in this favored state
a disc golfer golfs with a friend
and she throws and then proceeds to wait
for her friend’s turn to end.
But years from now, when I’m old and grey,
I’ll tell each and everyone I know
that I was there and in the way
when they named her Two Throw Jo.
Benchly'sword 