The Wrestler


Ace would pair us off and watch us squirm
Just like reptilian stars from Tokyo.
I was little match for Robert’s firm
Resolve and sober stare – and much too slow
And weak to ever hope for little more
Than laying brokenhearted on the floor.

Young Robert’s victory would bring no smiles.
There would be no praise, no olive wreath
To crown his lowered head, no handshake while
He hurried with us just to stand beneath
The only friend he’d find at school that day.

Where were we when he blew himself away?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s