i hate golf.

Herb thought i was being rational
and i think that meant the left brain
but i've always written with my right hand
and didn't want to hurt his feelings,
after all it was his office and i was sitting
by the only desk lamp
in an antique green upholstered chair which
reminded me of the ugly one i had always avoided
in my grandmother's living room
but since i was paying Herb 130 dollars an hour
for the privilege of being in that chair,
i told myself to like it.
He was a nice man, too, taking notes when something
i said seemed to pique his interest which
was often and now that i reflect he was scribbling
furiously for the hour we were together with but
a few nods and ahems and quick questions to
alert me to his continued grand interest.
what was this all about, anyhow?
Six years after being a participant in a soup kitchen
experiment i continued to feel a driving attraction
for the head chefs and their love of Chardonnay although
for the life of me i think i've come to accept the taste of
an interesting Merlot or perhaps it was a Pinot?
no, the difficulty was a penis.
yes, that was the root cause of my problem although it
wasn't a problem it was an issue and if we're talking
newspaper, an issue is usually delivered daily but i've
always preferred the Sunday Times and not
simply because it was expensive but because
i like the writing and the writers and their subjects.
so basically i had a bicycle seat which over the many years
of riding both mountain and road bike etched a deep welt on
my ass which extended frontally and it became painful but
i ignored the pain and then i think i became impotent.
but i had an abusive childhood, also, and learned how to
live with people who took advantage of me in ways that they
may not have even been conscious of and i never knew what
i did to trigger their persistent needling and clever hurtfulness.
i became melancholy.
i wanted an experiment, say perhaps a changed life or one more self-compassionate
or is that too muted, well regardless, one is certainly not available at a car dealership
or is the subject of curious conversation in a neighborhood man cave,
and certainly not at the tavern among the guys who only want to talk
about a different type of handicap.
i hate golf.
i love the chef.
mostly, there is a lot to be said for creating original recipes and sharing common
interests, but more can be learned about someone when the emotional honesty
is first and foremost an important ingredient of the relationship dish.
did i mention that i love food?  good.  it's true.
if you were given a second or third chance in life, what would you choose to become?
consider this:  you won't have to ask Herb for permission.