Of Palaces and Poolhalls

Walls of marble, mosaic floors,
the sway and slap of salon doors,
the line-up silence – a carom to pocket
and the halted breath of those who watch it –
here are ladies and here fine lords
eased beneath the power chords
at their own leisure to waste the night
and for mere pleasure they may fight.

Now all old halls of mirth and wonder
by the same hands toppled and pulled under
and pavement set in their old place
to add another parking space.

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