Whenever I play pool in a crowded bar,
I think of Donald in Mathmatics Land,
and its candy colored characters. I try to see
the dotted lines, the right angles.
They obviously come naturally
to you, a red striped ball tips
into a side pocket; the one
with a yellow stripe falls into a corner.
I have to laugh at the way you try
to encourage me. The green felt is dotted
with green, blue, solid spots. I’m drunk
and leaning against the table as I try to align
the blue tipped cue to the white dot.
The motion on the table blends ball
into ball, solid matter turning into sound
and color. Those right angles, Donald Duck’s
scratchy voice. You thought I could do it,
and I love to try when I know I will fail.