The thing about that shiny bit of metal hiding under that log back in mushroomtown, the thing about that was, it was a golf club. And that little bit of the park we were in, not Wissahickon at the time but Fairmount, was that there were all these signs saying "Golf Course". Like "Golf Course Rules" and "No misbehavin' on the golf course!" and "Yonder is the golf courfe that ye seek.", etc. Then you get up close and see all these baskets hanging from the trees, and these little instructional maps with colored dots, matching dots on the trees, and there it is, there is the word: Frisbee. Frisbee golf. And that golf club jammed up underneath the log, hidden away in a dark recess, "I'll meet you at the golf course!".. and I have to imagine, I have to see someone entirely recognizable (but not in that moment), skulking back to the golf course days or maybe weeks or you never can tell, maybe a month or more, sneaking back with their fingers crossed going to retrieve their golf club.