Nov02

Sometimes I feelLike I’m a silver ballStrung upIn a Newton’s cradle.I feel the hand of fateDraw me back.Feel the rushAs I slice the air,Eyes clenched in anticipationFor the smash,A clash, a cascade,A regular slapping,Ticking like clockwork,Working me over,Like an heavy old bagSparring with Ali.The tension is shuffledAcross the collisionAnd we tend towardsOne another,Now brothers in…