Unshaven man with one tooth
Challenges me to a
Game of 8 ball.
He has shaky hands
Watery eyes
Tired look that says
I can take him.
I down my fifth beer
Break the balls
Claim stripes
Finish him off
Before the next round comes.
He rests the cue on the table 
Says good game
That I shouldn't worry about life so much.
He disappears before I challenge him on that.
I sit heavily on the stool
Eat the orange slice
Wonder which of my teeth
Will go first.

© Poem Fix 2012
Photo:  Poem Fix

No comments:

Post a Comment