UFC - April 22nd

UFC at My Brother's House

The fight wants to be
in my head like a movie montage.
Two muscular men duking it out
in a cage like total fucking morons,
like men.
I guess it would be intercut
with a breakup: punches, verbal
blows, blood spraying, crying.

No, that's not the movie. We're not fighting,
there are no punches. All I see are two
mostly naked people grappling;
there is no violence
in the calm moments. Faces drained, they look
so scared and sad. I'm having a beer,
my first one. I wish your lips were here
to share with me, the moment, the beer,
our disgusted looks at this pointless sport.
If I don't finish this drink, does it still count?
If I never fully experience something
new, can I still share for you?

I will leave every bottle half-full,
make it to the next round.