A Recovered Poem

I found a poem this morning that I believe was written nearly two years ago about someone who is now no longer my friend. It provides an interesting perspective for me and makes me grateful that I recognized when to say "enough" and left him out of my life.

The pool cue is balanced on my bare knee.
My friend has told me I hit with the wrong hand.
I have not told him that I am ambidextrous,
and with whiskey in me I play better with left.
The other man, difficult to call him that
after knowing him as a child says,

“are you mad at me are. YOU. Mad. At:  ME”

And leans on his cue and his eyes are dilated and I try to exhale all the stale air
I contain.  He thinks he is intimidating and important and masculine,
I will not laugh at this alcohol induced inflation because I love him and
I say “tomorrow, let’s talk about this tomorrow” and wink and look away, feeling like
a dried up Bette Davis, tired of all the acting, and wonder if he will ever remember this
and I don’t know if he is merely drunk and aggressive
or serious and honest, which is worse.

When he looks into my eyes as he hits the white ball HARD, not paying attention to its direction and says
in a way so hurtful I can never master
“You don’t appreciate where I am coming from”
my eyes swell and the room spins with glances of sympathy
I focus on not crying, not retreating, not arguing.  I am bad at all of these, I just want
To finish this game
and go home to a quiet place where everyone ignores me and I can just
fall asleep in the dark without looking in the mirror or asking myself
questions.