last night at College Billiards,
the local dive joint where circuit Players
come to shoot pool on the Pro size tables,
making hustler type bets,
we're crummy so settled around a
Brunswick in the back top corner,
ordered up thick juicy grilled burgers
from a sweet Hispanic cocktail waitress,
and best onion rings on El Cajon Boulevard
washed down with Pacifico beer.
Cool Rat Pack tunes played in the background
Dean Martin boozy growling
and you could smell the cig smoke coming
out Sammy Davis Jr.'s mouth,
we shot eight ball and chill practice
while money was fast changing hands
down on the floor,
and charming slick-talker Minnesota Fats
who never lost a game
"when the cheese was on the table,"
in a frame on dingy green walls,
taking in all the action.