Golfing with a Gangster
by Alarie Tennille

Most would think it reckless
to play with Al Capone.
My grandfather had no choice:
the cost of being golf pro
at Capone’s club.

He could match Capone for swagger.
I see him happily demonstrating
the proper swing or kicking back
a few beers with the mob
at the clubhouse.

Would nerves crack
his resolve to win? Never.
He cared more about saving face
than saving his neck.

Golf owned him – a bigger addiction
than booze, cigarettes, or women.
Maybe, just maybe, Capone liked
finding someone else dead set
on winning.

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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