Slate Warfare

The door swings open, the senses of the exterior replaced by those within

Where there was wind, there’s Jukebox music

Where there was traffic, there’s now boisterous banter

The fresh air turns to chalk and smoke

Problems had are now gone

New ones ready to take their place, me in the middle

Paper’s exchanged for coin, weapons are unsheathed and assembled

Combat commences on the dusty felt battleground

Through facades of joking and laughter, these are my enemies

Familiar faces that stand in between me and the next break

Me and the wager between us, me and that ring she wants

Whose hand’s the steadier, aim finer, foresight keener, nerves more resolute

Across the room, silhouettes blurred by smoke and the arena’s murky atmosphere

Those novices may liken this blood sport to checkers; it is more akin to chess

Skill and strategy lay waste to the untrained hand

Words like carom, masse, shape, leave, safe, seem random to some

These are my tools, the keys to my craft, my arsenal

I will use them with my utmost competence to dispatch my foes

Then tend to their wounds, buy them a drink, make them numb to defeat

For without an opponent, one cannot achieve the thrills of victory