H-Cue's

[couchgrouch]

H-Cue'sI'd watch Harry break, in his old billiard hallhe knew 'fore they scattered, where the last ball would falllotsa kids I knew, were raised by cold, dark streetsbut shooting pool after school, kept my shadow on a leashHarry'd let me close up, and put away the sticksthen with his custom cue, he'd show me some trickshe'd say life is knowing how, to set up your next shotplanning for your end game, letting faith be your chalkwith just eight tables the Coke machine was out of orderbut for local nine-ballthat joint was headquartershe wore a cigar and a pork-pie hathe could doublebank from behind his backbut the hardest trick is smilin' when you loseand I learned it all at H-Cue'sHarry never complained, not in the slightestwhen his knuckles swole up, and froze from arthritishe said it was up to me, to teach other kids to playthere were no more tricks, to show me, anywayI was his only fam'ly, the day poor Harry diedhe whispered that he wanted, a pocket off to the sidehis last shot set him up, by some old Birch treesI continued the game, with his cue and keyswith just eight tables the Coke machine was out of orderbut for local nine-ballthat joint was headquartershe wore a cigar and a pork-pie hathe could doublebank from behind his backbut the hardest trick is smilin' when you loseand I cried that night at H-Cue's(c)2006 Robert George