Billy, Kurt, My Brother And Me

The trees are dancing and the grass is soaking wet.
The rain stops but the wind is blowing hard, making it hard to light a cigarette.
My brother gets his lit.
I light mine off of his.
Kurt says maybe we should quit.
Billy hits a pretty shot twenty five yards short of the fifth.
I long for the jacket I took out of my bag a couple days ago for no reason.
My brother opens a beer.
Billy throws his eight iron into a tree.
I slice a ball around a tree under the wind onto the green.
My brother says maybe Kurt is right.
Billy says, I hit that pretty good.
Not good enough, my brother says.
Billy picks up his club, re-hits the shot, and hooks it into a creek.
Billy throws his club again.
My brother hits his fourth over the green.
Billy gets up and down for par.
I line up my putt.
Kurt looks for his ball in the weeds.
Did anyone see it? Kurt asks.
It's too cold to be looking for lost balls, I think, putt, miss, tap it in.
I didn't, my brother says.
Billy and I help Kurt look for his ball.
My brother picks up his and says, I've had enough of this hole.