Fighting, Ultimately

What sort of bunch would relish Ultimate Fighting?
The bare-fisted, no-rules, face-wrecking phenomenon? Marquess of Queensberry laughed out of the ring. Where quicksilver choreography turns brutish, and symmetry of form blurs into hands, feet, forehead and final bell.

Probably the same kind who, earlier on, roamed the watercourses seeking small, striped frogs; crushing the limbs one at a time in excruciating silence.

Or laughing when another tells the story.
*Occasionally, a devotee bursts upon some public theatre with SWAT attire, heavy ordnance, smoke canisters and slaughter seeking a slightly different “win”.
And we cry, “What happened?”
The frogs are keeping score.
(*Aurora, Colorado, July 20, 2012)

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 )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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