Another Round with Loneliness

I’ve got No One in my corner,
Rubbing my shoulders raw,
Whispering, We’re in this together, Baby.

She’s across the ring, licking
Garnet blood from her bottom lip:
It’s like this every time with her.

She’s outclassed and she knows it.
But Vanity manages to chat her back in.
Panic’s pacing ringside like a caged thing.

The brass clang stains the air. She comes at me.
All stance with no talent in the hands,
She jabs. Misses. My hits hiss. Thud.

In a clinch at center ring,
We’re caught in a diminished waltz.
She’s exhausted. I’m winded.

She looks ready to be put down.
The crowd knows it. Yells for me to end
This bout with a knockout. The Ref gives

Her the dignity of a standing eight.
Out on her feet. I read
Relief and something like terror

In her eyes. Punch-drunk,
She knows not to press her luck
In the squared circle. Every girl struts:

Swinging her fists, making me the villainess
Of her soap-opera drama. What’s a victim,
Without the victor? The Ref lifts my hand

And a crowd gathers in my blue corner.
No One wants to take me out for a beer.
I turn him down and have a beer alone.