Sailor, and: Boxing Lessons

SAILOR*

An old man lights a cigarette onlyand a world ignites. Heat breaksas he waves for another whiskeyand the wind of that motion lingersin the swipe of how I-95 thinks it’sa straight line when it’s only a relicof how the air would have it be.A road is a living space for the nextwhiskey, the next body, the next life,the next beat he pins his body on.He is drunk. He is ashamed. Openand he will enter until he remembershe hasn’t changed his drawers and socksin three days and he stinks of years of howeager finger tips melted his pith, havemelded hooks on the borders of his boundedsurround. He needs more than whiskey to jointhe evergreens. He is lost at sea. He missesthose moments of roaming throughan unbounded wilderness, closing trapsand leaving sweet notes for hunters, settingfires in erratic patterns, trapping lifein haste, borrowing songs for the journeypast the gate of someone’s teeth. He islost. When the whiskey comes he willsniff bird shit by the river. He willsit on a bench and steal the pivotsfor a bridge. He will come at the worldwith remarkable steam. He will screamin heaps and process the wade. He willrot like wood and spit in his own hollow.He will spread like a rash in brittle shadows.He will want to drum fresh water and to lean into metal. When it comes, hewill imagine being clean. Therewill be no drink or sea. He will rememberto set sail for the woods. He will rememberwhy he is so far from land, and howthe world began in the first place.

BOXING LESSONS

I am a journeyman shadowboxing.I am Quick Magic on the undercard.I am lightning.I am stitchesand I lead with a good hook;and I have such a good hook.I am a man leaning into a fightwith his chin taking questions:What is the value of witnessing?And what good does it do to fight at all?But I am readyand I am so ready.I am a sucker-punchand I am a flat-out brawl.I am 36 cents in 2 games of dozens.I have been half fulland I have been half-in.I am an illegal traffic in painand I am the master of two hard palms.I am a poetry of cheap shots.I am quick footwork against the ropes.I am the overhand right in good rum.I am the speed-knot from the bum rush.I am a standing 8 count on wobbly legs.I am a kingdom of boxing hammers.I am a gas-lit welterweight boxing smoke.I am the drawl in cursive script.I am the cheap shot in cheap flowersand I am exactly what you mean by “low rent.”But I am readyOh, I am so ready