I like to
sit in the sports bar
and watch the
big fights
that are on Pay per View.
I sit drinking
Jamacan beers and
reliving past glories
to anyone
who will listen.
I drink
and watch
as the young guys,
their names and faces
change so fast,
slug it out
with each other
like naked greeks
slick with olive oil
in ancient games.
Sometimes I tell
the waitress or barmaid
how much better
it was at the
birth of the sport.
They smile at me
and crack open
another Red Stripe
and bending
flash a little cleavage
before scooping
up my money
and disappearing
like my
youth.
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