Chicano Poet

Friday, January 07, 2005

Birthday Cake

We’re playing pool
in the garage,
celebrating my birthday.

I put English
on the ball
because Spanish

is just, too, unpredictable.
We’re playing
nine ball,

if you know that game.
You have to make the balls
in numerical order

or with
a combination
pocket the nine.

We’re listening to
Revolution # 9
by the Beatles.

John is dancing
in his white suit,
the only Beatle

I ever cared for.
Never did like Yoko,
or very poco.

I chalk up the cue,
call the pocket,
and sink the nine ball.

I cut the birthday cake
on a break,
the candles spinning everywhere.


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