street fighter

let's go at it

right now


brass knuckles and everything:
better buckle up
and knuckle down for the fight



i'll give you a bloody lip
if you promise to kiss me with it later
and not flinch



don't fool yourself--
i'm not pulling any punches
i want you to shatter my glass jaw

(to match my heart)


no switchblade surgeon quite like you
with your deft left-handed precision
in incision-making


a heavy-lidded hard-hitter
holding back with closed fists

insult me with the insincerity
of these injuries



don't hide your eyes
like you didn't want them blackened;
you and i both knew
the gloves had to come off
some time


i like it best
in the back alleys
where wet gravel and city pollution
soil my knees

where brick-walled corners
wait to receive you

where the sickening thud
of fist to face
echoes off street signs


you're nobody's baby here


we're glitteringwet
against bottle shards and garbage,
our false-star hopes
reflected in neon raindrops

i'll give you two minutes
to wipe your face clean
to catch up with your heart
to breathe









but then you've got to start hitting back