Open evening small bars become it
cobblestone hills
The accent on the wind toward ears
Coolness and cheap lighting
The cue makes colours roll
beer spilt and cursing and laughing
Patrons boast and relate
Friends convince eachother of the next round
Jokes are thrown from one side of the table
to the other
Dissappointment shrinks
Bellowing sinks denial the last ball dissapears
Another coin goes in the slot
Glory in bottles and cans whoas and wows
The sharp eye softens
four percent catches up
Tips are chalked and delivered
sometimes finding the right point on the ball
Trajectory a steady interest for the inibriated
The paradox that they drink with no attention to the flavour
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