the results are in
im a fat old man
feet mired in molasses as i attempt to change the course of younger, faster more motivated fellows
they run by
momentarily impeded by my arm
as the shoulder fails to connect
a step slow, am i

the badass is buried beneath layers of apathy
visible to the world as these extra 40 pounds
fat and sassy is no way to play rugby
its fine for old cats on window sills
soaking up the rays

finally someone decided to try to run me over
and there was that satisfying smack
flesh on flesh
full contact
and down goes frazier
down goes frazier
the two week old dull ache in my mid back gets realigned with the smack
a sort of high speed chiropractor
and i have a glimmer of pride

i need more than a glimmer
but theres nothing compelling about working out
no one to impress
unless i wanna sell myself on the ageless warrior vibe
i sure have a bad taste in my mouth from the recent defeat
the game is passing me by and i watch it and say, what a shame
as i finish my millionth beer
and start on the second million

where is the grrrr?
where is my anger?
where is the need to physically dominate my fellow man?
the need which served me oh so well and made me oh so nasty?

i did fuck up some garlic mustard plants this weekend
thousands of the suckers
i could hear them screaming
as i pulled their roots from the rain-soaked soil
piles of death dot the landscape
is this what asia looked like during attilas time?

applying constant pressure while
bending over and dealing destruction felt like rugby

i got muddy and wet like rugby

my back was sore after the carnage
just like rugby

maybe this is the first step back to greatness
build on this success
work my way up the food chain
maybe trees next week
then insects
then smalller amphibians
by june i should be into warm-blooded creatures
then in september, people
its a plan