Ammunition For A Dialogue



Will you play a round of conversational golf with me?

I haven’t a handicap and nor have you,

But we’ll manage best we can with the help of the miniature golfers living in our heads. We are only their faithful caddies.

They are guardians of our words. Sometimes they drive the ball skilled and precise, and your words land in plain view on the green.

Sometimes they send it spinning off askew, and I have to search the long grass for your hidden meaning.

Conversation is a course with an infinite number of holes to play.

You wear the spiked shoes and I’ll wear the plus-fours.

I’m not sure now which is my ball and which is yours.

Let’s in our ridiculous clothes throw away the score-card and enjoy the walk.



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