By Jim Gustafson

No mo joe November 8,2011

At about six AM, I picked up the paper
By the street where the drive way opens to the city. It laid
Curled up in a cheap plastic sack to keep it
Dry, against a light Florida drip.

Everything was morning still, not even a bird. When I read,
Frazier is dead
Gone,down for the final count
Hit hard at the last round bell, towel thrown

In the ring by his terminal trainer
Jabbed in the face. a stiff right
left him without breath
KO”d cold for good

Liver cancer at 67 put him down
For the count on heavens door
Mat. Where joyful angels sung,

“Now we will see some real action
On Friday nights .
Prepare the pugilism palace
Replace the spot lights, shine up the bell, tap the keg
Smokin Joe is here at last”

The word spread throughout the
Universe. fight fans flood ticket master
vivere militare est ” they shout.
We have waited for you Joe

Xenial angels greet him with new gloves
You can start training, prepare, get ready,
We have our eyes
Zeroed in on Ali”

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