Damon Hubbs


by the depot 
on Saturday afternoon

few games 
of pool, pitchers of beer
a girl

it’s cold in the back 
room & the baggy wool cardigan 
banking her neck

is as familiar 
as the bar’s wood stove—  
a half-empty flickering, unattended

passengers ticketed through here 
for almost a century, weekend trips
to Kingston Point 

they’d sing all the way back,
the Catskills echoing 
with music & laughter

as the U&D railroad
linked the last 

bad luck 
to look 

just a spot 
for nine ball 
on Saturday afternoon 

& pitchers of beer 
with a girl whose cold breath flutters 
like pompoms on game night

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