My Sporting Life

What sport will I play when I am 75
garulous golf or duplicitous darts
nothing with falling something with smarts.

Twenty old birds in the yard pecking
fluttering at human sight or sound
I’m the only one standing my ground.

My sporting nature’s gone through changes
long tumbling boyishness turned strategic
unwilling opponents now quadriplegic.

I no longer run but damn well will shoot
lights out on the court of your choice
my change of pace part of the chase.

The games I played in twenty heydays
have gone inside and left me parched
drinking aggressively on the porch.

Stop by and I will socialize combatively
sit and start a conversation thinking
three steps ahead to protect your position.

It comes out quickly and scares the timid
a rush of positioning becoming a sickly
unforgiving ambition for small risks.

Call me jock I will not argue
unless of course I feel like it
I need no ball no hoop no racket.

What sport will I play when I am 75
garulous golf or duplicitous darts
nothing with falling something with smarts.

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
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