by Con Chapman
The cool white ball rolls silently
down to the bumper,
then bounces back.
It glides to the place where
I stroked it from.
I lay down my dime
to mark my spot
on the green felt.
Your turn.
You do as I did, and as
the cue ball rolls to a spot
slightly inside of mine,
there is silence in the pool hall,
whether from boredom, or
anticipation, or impatience,
I don't know.
He who comes closest,
goes first.
Three quarters drop in the soda
machine, breaking the stillness.
Your break.
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*
Gadzooks, man, the suspense is unbearable. My nerves are taut as a banjo string! *
I wish I could say I've been in a tense game. Only an observer, as befits my skills.
*, Con. Racked for 9 ball? I like this.
Captures the tense silence of the game.
David--Nine ball's fine with me. You'd probably take my lunch money.
Best comment award goes to...the envelope, please...let's see, oops my glasses...here we go...okay, best comment award goes toooooo...GARY HARDAWAY!!
"I'd like to thank my eighth grade English teacher Ms. Waite, who taught me the value of being pithy. If I came into class grumpy, she'd say 'Why are you tho pithy?'"
You sure that wasn't Ms. Godlthwaithe?
You sure that wasn't Ms. Godlthwaithe?