There they sit.
There they sip.
They are looking at screens.
Small screens.
Lap sized screens.
Dancing screens lit up on the dank, walpapered walls.
The green from the course tints the air
With a smell of old
Wet
Grass.
Seventy individual lives.
Brought together for purpose.
For spirit.
For the game.
Cups rattle ice
Forks and plates clink together.
Motors of carts buzz beyond the bar.
Open doors reveal a fresh paradise.
Boisterous jeers, laughing friends.
Laughing partners.
Laughing rivals.
Sweet sunshine
crisp in the winter air.
This is a dream.
This is the old days and the new year.
This is not the office.
This is golf.
This is Cali Life.
-nobodysbaby
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