smog in the room like a swamp aroma night
clinks and chatter amongst the darts in flight
a couple joined hands at the jukebox picking out their song
guys in football tees searching for a loose thong
the dim lights above the black glassy sticky floor
built up pressure escapes out the opened door
the merry sounds pour out into the streets
inviting like an advertisement to people we've yet to meet
i myself am by myself yet quite content
at a table i call my date for a dollar i can rent
the green felt the crystal balls makes everything stable
I'm content with my passions at the pool table
© 2002 S. S. Hudson, STRTJCKT Publishing
