Dukes of Habit

Irish nightwith a few black beers for luckstood elbow to elbow in the midst of strange drunkardsthree sheets to the windplacing little wagers before the clock struckand the tender turns us awaylike the last three nights we’ve been

Pool Boys

A cold beer ran down my lips, to my chinin a moment I knew would last a lifetimethere was a pool table…balls rackedready for a breaksome girl singing on the radiowe both sang a few of the wordsthose… Read More