Years ago I taught a "liberal arts mathematics" course -- and for a time we used the text Mathematics, a Human Endeavor: A Textbook for Those Who Think They Don't Like the Subject by Harold R. Jacobs (W H Freeman, 1971); the text's topics included one new to me, the geometry of the paths of billiard balls. The ease I found with this mathematics ill-prepared me for the skill I needed to avoid embarrassment at a neighbor's new pool table -- and the memories of it all drew me immediately into Dan Brown's poem, "Why I Never Applied Myself to Pool," found in the March 2013 issue of Poetry.
Why I Never Applied Myself to Pool by Dan Brown
Not that I lacked an eye entirely,
But give me an oblique enough kiss
To visualize, and my eye said “See ya later.”
A little practice might have sharpened it,
But what was needed here was not as much
A sharper as a higher order eye,
A whole other orb altogether.
Today I have been looking back over my postings during the first half of 2013, this one is my present favorite (from 19 June 2011): "Equation" by Caroline Caddy.