January 6, 2002

The Grass-Green Baize

The Grass-Green Baize - David E. Malone - January 6, 2002

I was stumbling along the sidewalk - hadn't eaten for days...
When I sensed the smell of a poolhall, the scent of the grass-green baize.
I stood transfixed in the fading light as the memories flooded in
And I thought of the way my life had been before the spell of the rotgut gin.

I heard the click of the clashing spheres and the crack of the breaking balls
And I remembered playing for jellybeans in the smoke of the sleazy halls...
It was Sunday, late in the afternoon - I was going to confess my sin
I worshipped God in the bottle and I prayed at the altar of gin.

But I rested up by this open door and the music wafted wide
And a wrinkled old man with a dirty shirt beckoned me inside.
I only went in because the rain was cold. I knew I should never have tried
Only sometimes, son, the devil himself will take you for a ride...

There was a crowd of people there - and the buzz of a money game.
I knew that sound and I knew that I shouldn't, but I went there just the same.
There was the local boy with his Justis case and his custom SouthWest cue
And the out-of-towner, a rumpled roadie, who looked like he'd had a few...

His eyes were wild and he seldom smiled and he took a cue from the rack
It was bent like a bow but he appeared not to know and declined to put it back.
I had a finn I'd nicked that morning from the pocket of a careless whore
And I looked for the fellow holding the stakes because I'd seen all this before.

Only last time I looked it was me at the table and me with that rumpled look
And I laughed cause I knew that my money was safe on the back of that scrawny crook.
My laugh sounded loud in the pregnant hush, as the game got under way
But I didn't care what the punters thought as I watched them begin to play.

The star got out to an early lead - his stroke was smooth and clean
(While the other feller's stroke was maybe the worst you've ever seen...)
But as the game wore on his awkward stick began to straighten out
And slowly as a turtle's trot the numbers turned about.

The local's hands began to shake - the sweat ran down his face
And before the midnight hour had rung I knew he'd lost the race.
I should have left that moment with my winnings in my hand
But something made me stay there although it wasn't what I planned.

And as I watched the crowd dispersed and left the table bare
And only me and that S.O.B. were left still standing there.
Our gazes met and his eyes widened as I think he saw his fate
But he only winked and said, "Put up that wad and play some straight?"

The room went dark and the music dimmed as I picked up a cue
And I began to work this trivial thing just like I used to do.
My arm got loose and my mind went blank as I set back the years.
And I lost myself in the rhythm, in the music of the spheres...

Time went by and the balls went down and I permitted myself a smile
I had one ball left and I hesitated... and then missed it by a mile!
"Hey, old man. " The hustler said, "I'm a hustler - not a fool
I know you missed on purpose... But that's cool...

I'm going to make you pay the price for making that mistake.
I don't know what your game is but I'm taking home your stake."
And as he played I watched his face - he wasn't having fun.
Seems each ball got more difficult as he thought what I had done.

But still he won, and threw the cue, and cussed me up and down.
His eyes were full of tears and he looked all beaten down.
"I win", He cried, "But I have to know... why did you miss that shot?
You could've drank for days with all these jellybeans I've got..."

"Don't you see...", I calmly said, "you're where I used to be...
If you don't change professions, son, you'll soon be just like me."
So he broke down and wept because he knew it was the truth.
His life was going nowhere and he'd thrown away his youth.

"You're right", he said. "I'm going back to where I started out -
I'm looking for a real job and I'll turn my life about..."
And as he wept I swiped the cash and the wallet from his vest
Cause when it comes to hustling, son, I am the very best!