Lucky 7 [for RM ~ 1985-2005]

It's always the one you don't expect that ends up creamed in the
dogfight------that one wide-eye.
The reason to get up at 4AM with some
bad-breathed son-of-a-bitch screaming
“Slow!
Weak!
Worms!”

In the showers we’d say, This kid’s got balls,
and punch his arm
until it purpled like his face and he’d wave us off---
they were always there:
sometimes at 4am,
their passion     [that kid was passion]
would light the room like those phosphorous ones
we used to buy with ice cream;laughter thunder-cracking through the flesh of
keloids coagulated in hourly bellows and
razor-wind-chill---deeply bred
ravines running limp forearms;
when the only options were to punch
the angry bastard in the teeth
or tuck your tail.
Those were the things that made you want to fuck
the whole goddamned thing and move back to your basement.
Or worse, in with Father Himself.  
The Temptation never dies
and neither would we;
we might miss the next gem.
Why does someone like that,
someone
[necessary
to survival]ends the way damned
and more deserving people should?
The week after, Lucky 6 flew a run for him.I broke sunwardtaking my chance to stare Him down:
My friend is gone, now
where in Hell were You?