Monday, May 10, 2010

The Fighter's Lament

He was an old fighter. Spent. His fast jabs and footwork gone. Alone he drank at the One Lucky. Sometimes he spoke of the love he never had. Most times he boxed against the hard scrabble of a barroom floor.

2 comments:

Graven said...

this sounds like you and HP at the fox and the feather last wednesday.

Fisheye Lens said...

what the hell is wrong with drinking alone? As long as you like the company, the bevvies are tasty, and you've got something to eyeball -- the Times supplement, a book, a hockey game, or a hot waitress.