the purple pool table

when he was young,

i'd take

the kid to a pool hall to play

a few

games.

once or twice a week.

it was back when everyone smoked

inside.

so the place was blue

with smoke.

it wreaked with the smell of beer

and ne'er-do-wells.

a lot of beards and scars

we're going on,

leather vests with Harleys

parked out front.

we'd shoot nine ball

or high low

most of the time.

he could barely reach over

the table with his

stick to strike a ball, but

we managed.

in time i bought a pool

table for the basement.

we had to use short sticks because

the walls were too

close.

then the kid grew up and left

for college,

packed his bags and then

from there he

left for the left coast

never to return.

i'd fold laundry from then on

and use the table for

the stacked clothes

and towels.

on occasion it became

an ironing board.

sometimes i'd roll a ball across

the slate

for the hell of it, trying

to land one in a far end

corner pocket.

eventually i sold the purple

pool table

with cues and balls, the heavy

slate and wood

on Craig's list.

rarely used i posted.

in a week it was gone.