Thursday, December 18, 2014

SHOOTING POOL WITH THE DEVIL

Of course he cheats,
but exactly how
I haven’t quite figured out.
Unless it’s by distraction,
‘cuz I’m not really sure
if that beautiful harlot
standing behind him
is real or merely an illusion.

He’s ordered the raucous music
turned up high
and the lights
turned down low,
so it’s rather dark in here,
with demon’s eyes glittering
all around me,
and the carpet squishing and slithering
beneath my feet,
and there’s an awful stench
of cigarette smoke.
Or maybe it’s sulphur.

There he goes again . . .
Shoots every ball into a pocket
without missing once.

“Rack ‘em up!” he barks.
“And I’ll give you another chance.”

What’s the use, I mutter.
But I break anyway,
and the eight ball
goes straight into the left corner pocket.

“You lose!” he screeches,
with a wicked gloat in his eyes.

Curse my damn luck, I mutter.
And the hooker cracks up.
Her cackling
makes my skin crawl.

Then, some demon racks up again,

and the cue stick in my hands catches fire.

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