Gran got her hair done on Thursdays
over at Paulette’s at Morgantown,
while Papaw and me
escaped to the pool hall
there on the square
next to the Catfish Shack.
I crawled up on the stool
in front of the big old heavy bar.
and ordered my usual,
a cherry coke with crushed ice,
and Papaw stood
in the back by the spit-can.
I watched him pick out a stick
and check to see if it was straight.
He pulled the balls from their pockets
and arranged them just so,
tight in the rack.
and right on the spot.
I held my breath ‘til he broke—
the bright colors scattered
and smacked and cracked
and ricocheted off each other.
He lined up the shots
and down the balls went.
I loved to watch him
‘cause he didn’t miss a lick.
The other men would spit and nod
or shake their heads
and his trembling hands
were steady.
Then Gran pulled up
in her big granny car.
Papaw and I walked out,
squinting in the sun.
He handed me a quarter
‘Cause I was his girl.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 12:56pm on Nov 16, 2024 via server WEBX1.