by Rhonda L. Nolan

Too late
Always late
Remembering the nights
You and I
Pool hall musty
Pool hall bright yet dark
The room is empty
Cigarettes and cider
The sound of breaking
Your warm breath on my neck.

Holding hands and whispering softly
Sinatra singing and Deano wailing
You hold the stick for me
I hold the stick for you
Stripes or solids, can't remember
Does it matter?
I love you
Wherever we are
Pool hall.
Just another place in time.

Eight ball rolling slowly
You stroke my hair as I lean over
Kiss my cheek
I miss again
Sinatra singing
Doesn't matter
Too late
Always late
I will never forget.
Those pool hall nights with you.

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Late Nights in the Pool Hall, 30 December 1999