He was bent over
almost in half

bent over a pool table
concentrating on the next play
but there were no *****
on the table
just a body
dressed in gray sweatpants
a holey shirt, and only one shoe

The pool cue was chalked with blood
but his hands were steady

Crack

Splintering wood against bone
fractures symphonic ally
in tune with ancient jukebox greats
warbling the hurts
of somebody done someone wrong

but I don't want a piece of that...

that which has spread someone
who never meant anything to me
across the green of the pool table
trying to punt individual pieces of them
into six different holes

I'm shadowing myself in the corner
next to the jukebox
but his eyes find mine and I'm surprised

his are Blue
like an ocean
like a cloudless sky
like a sapphire under the sun
like a fire burning too hot
like deep frozen ice

His seriously kissable sensual lips
tip enticingly upwards
in my general direction
asking... imaging

He with you?

asking but not believing

you with him?

Mutely, I wither beneath the notice
and nod with a shake of my head

I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here

But here I am being scrutinized
from a different angle

In front of me
he's standing, tracking my gaze
to the non action at the pool table
now over, there is a new game in play
but he didn't ante in
as he found a new game

Me

and the stakes are high!

A finger runs lightly down my cheek
across my collarbone and down the V
of my deeply cut T shirt
skimming knuckles across the slopes
of barely there maturity
down the inside of my arm to my wrist
to the palm of my hand
twining into my numb fingers
raising them to press a open mouthed kiss
to my white knuckles

with a promise of
I know where you live

Out the door, alone, across the parking lot
and into the car I own
he's watching
waiting for me to turn my back on him
and he's got it
he'll find me

I realize as I close a door
that has little hope
and less lockable appeal
that he does indeed now know
where I live

*He won't forget