The smoke hung low
In the Union Pool Room,
While the girls
Racked 'em up
In the hotel rooms above,
As old Booker,
Mumbling to himself,
Cigarette dangling from his lip,
Racked the balls
For a quarter a game.
I, sometimes hustler,
Sometimes hustled,
Willie Mosconi cue in hand
Eyes squinted,
Bent low over the table,
Eight ball corner pocket,
Sucker...
Sinking memories.
Donovan Baldwin
