Pool hall days love

I remember when you walked in

the place, the lights were splashing the tables,

the clack and the grunts, the boys with fuck on their lips

when they saw you. The light pouring through

was unnatural, too bright, and you

stood in the doorway, short skirt and frizzed hair,

scared and fiddling with your purse. The boys with veiny fidgity

hands, hair shrouding their eyes, pretended

not to notice, but the vinegar smell of their heat was primal.

Marry me, I said, and you smiled.

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2 thoughts on “Pool hall days love

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