“Cue” by Tiffany Belieu
The other men at the bar have started calling me
your old lady. The assumed closeness fills the room,
chokes the mood. People here know
me, should know better. The jukebox
swallows my attempts at goodbye. You’re laughing,
telling me this isn’t a conversation bar.
It’s more a rowdy pool hall. I look at the two tables.
Players shoot without calling. For fun,
for camaraderie, for something to do
on all the empty Sundays. I won’t play
I don’t know how, refuse to learn.
Even though it means a lot to him,
it doesn’t mean anything to me.
Tiffany Belieu is writing in the Midwest. Her work is published in Back Patio Press, Q/A Poetry, Muskeg Magazine, and Rabid Oak among others. She can be found @tiffobot on Twitter.
