In memory of Michael McGettigan
Where does it say you have to play your cards
the way you played your horn? Where did it say
the road youâ€™d walk would shrink to miles and yards
of first-class golf course holes up in Coos Bay?
I knew you when you spoke to me of songs
and dreams. Leave California. Settle down.
New Orleans was the place. A sad heart longs
to beat a whole new way — you heard its sound.
You played it all by ear, threw down your heart,
bartended nights; by day you owned the club.
Golf kept the wolf at bay. Golf let you start
again from scratch each day. Was this the rub?
Since when canâ€™t life be one big hole-in-one?
Where did it say your hurt was yours alone?
– Al Young
Â© 2009 Al Young