Pool at the Antzo-mendi
The Antzo-mendi bar was where
we went when we were male adolescents.
The place was big
and had a pool table in the middle.
Wooden floors.
You heard Velvet Underground there,
Ziggy Stardust.
In the back, kids hung out
sitting in the booths and talking.
The boys with their hair in colors,
their leather pants and heels.
The girls with their hair up and
tight leopard-print jerseys.
Whoever won at pool
played the older guys after.
That’s why I wanted to win,
to mix it up against them.
When the cue stick hit the ball
their neck chains and bracelets
jangled.
For some they were probably the devil incarnate,
but for me, angels.
With them I learned how to fly.