at night we’d practice

you’d call me “Hazy”

and I’d remind you

“hazy skies come with Rain”

that would make you smile

since all you had heard

were taunts and teases

“Rain, Rain go away…”


you’d show me tricks

angles and banks

I was never good at geometry

but you always told me

my mistakes made us real

live bait, not fly lure

and you meant it

you always embraced my me


I would wait for you

stand next to you as you shot

solids and stripes

shiny vibrant colors on felt

rolling in pockets

carried from cue tip to your sleeves

of permanent color

bubbles and koi

artwork embedded in skin

that sizzled when we touched

and made us both flinch


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