Glory Days

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.