Windmill

Holland reference. Hot dog reference.
Don Quixote reference. Me, he, and
Sancho Panza tilting towards the tee,
each hoping to shoot better than par 3,
a dollar per hole and five overall,
competitive in this child’s fantasy
world, birthday party bunch two holes ahead
of us, laughing too much, failing to take
the game seriously. We’ll have to skip
passed them once we catch up, pray that no one
is on the holes we need to replay, or
we won’t have enough time for the arcade,
the batting cage, the rest of the day’s plans,
me, my happy friend, and this crazy man.

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