an old one but a favorite.

someone once wanted to buy it from me.she was being kind.
i sold her another.

this, is mine.








pool night 1996

i sit quiet in the corner
just a bit of darker shadow
turned sideways from the light
coming yellow down on the
one decent pool table.

watching you laugh, drinking
with the rest. you stroke your stick
i can see you like the feel
of it's smooth wood
familiar to your fingers.

me, i'm thinking
i wanna be the pool table, soft
worn felt you're leaning across,
want you to be that stick.

the shot, as you stroke.
wanna be the corner pocket.

i swallow hard when you
tilt your coors up and
drink deep. i need to be your thirst.

shifting my weight a bit on my seat
i think about you
being that bar stool.

i would be the smokey air that
you suck in before the click of
the balls hitting. hell
i'd settle for being the cigarette
between your lips.

2 a.m. by the grimy neon clock
behind the bar, another pool night done.
you won a few of your games, i
haven't played at all.