Snooker

Snooker

Snooker

Playing me like a game of snooker
clicking and clacking
smacking the coloured balls
across the green felt
feeling that
oh yeah, I felt that alright
first the red ball
down for flattery
down a hole like vanity
like nice eyes, thanks
then a yellow
for sanguine insecurity
one yellowing tar-stained finger
poking and digging
and a blue for blue
and of course
I get down sometimes
playing me like a game of snooker
choosing which ball to prod and pot
and bump off the furthest cushion
with skill and ease and control
now being deep baritone
metal toothed and tattooed
she wrestled, unnaturally
with the pink
the girlish lipstick laugh
the brown was easy
we earthed and agreed
on a muddy clear point
concentrating on the point
the black right
the point
the black right
accidentally potted the
white right
right
crafty
I knew I was being played
researched for a character
for her next book
I said
next book
playing me like a game of snooker
and nobody won that game
but she blew on the end of cue
grinning triumphantly
and I felt covered
in a film of chalk dust
I gathered my balls
still intact, bit scuffed
I polished them
ordering many
large free ones
at the bar.