Down south of Kumano City, life being lived, laundry tableau, hung up on aluminum ladder in peculiar way, simple things (made-in-China things?): towel, well-worn sweatshirt, jacket, t-shirts, black and blue jeans flipped inside out, white pockets all askew, nothing new, clothes to be worn until they fall apart; scene vibes, strangely beautiful lawn — cropped short, even, no bald spots, huh, like a putting green, ah! a lover of golf, golf balls galore, golf net, sand bags, easy to imagine short-club practice swings on this small plot of land, perhaps held for generations, near the Hananoiwaya Shrine, squished in with the others: house next door elegantly patina’d wood (and yet also corrugated aluminum?), curious small plastic sack dangling from mailbox, homes in background: bokeh, tiled roof, solar water heater, entrancing translucence of carport roof; middle-of-nowhere dense community; in the center of it all (not now, but soon) — twack, twack, nine-iron, an implicit figure, decades since he’s been on a real course.