by Andrea Moore
Performed on the occasion of
Bowling with Poets - April 1, 2009
Writing about bowling almost killed me
Almost sucked my genius daemon dry
To try to turn a phrase,
To crazy-make, to quake with dread,
To fake it?
I could not be crafty
Not tidy not neat not sweet not salty
Just faulty at the task of writing
About bowling.
You see, I have tasted mediocrity
On a Kevin Costner scale.
When it comes to bowling,
I could be worse,
But that’s the curse, isn’t it?
It doesn’t take the skill set of a bowling pundit
To call it mediocre when I barely break a hundred.
I am telling you,
I am pretty… witty at bowling.
I could sing you a diddy about just how…
Witty I am at bowling.
Rhyming I’m better at,
Evidenced by this list I made:
Rolling, strolling, scrolling,
Polling… bowling.
And now, a new list –
A stretch, perhaps, but one I’m not afraid to make –
Goalie, lowly,
Roly poly,
Bowling.
For your consideration:
The goalie went strolling
Some polling suggested the goalie felt lowly.
While he was strolling,
He saw a roly poly rolling.
He stopped it; he kept it from scoring
He imagined scores scrolling on boards
He continued strolling,
For he was late, after all,
For some post-game bowling.
The scenario, I agree, is silly.
As I told you –
Writing about bowling almost killed me.