Or What Should Rather Be Entitled In The Rough.
Perhaps this should be called Balls To The Wall and Other Obstacles.
Alternatives include Hacking It, Teed Up to Fail, etc. etc. etc.
Earth was left behind. Not so much at my doing. More at the insistence of the inhabitants of that one small rock. A place I used to call home. But I was sent skyward for other reasons, for other purposes. Just none of my own.
So when life gives you an empty field, I did what I do best - hit golf balls. On a galactic scale.
Not that I was playing with planets or the lives on those planets. But my pars were parsecs.
I never stepped foot on the moon. It was made very clear I wasn’t welcome within Earth orbit. But the shots I made off of Titan, the divets in the Horsehead nebula, the banks off the rings of Ganylanard. They made for a fantastic game. They made leaving home worth it.
This damnable sand moon hasn’t. I’ve been trapped here now going on 13 months trying to get out. I’ve tried every wedge, every iron, even my woods. All I have left is a putter, but my layabout of a caddy keeps saying otherwise.
But what does a robot know of golf.
Today’s art is courtesy of Eren Arik from Istanbul, Turkey.