Hero of His Own Story
The path beyond my garden
began decades ago
when I was Ivan Drago
to my lil’ brother Phil’s Balboa.
we reenacted the classic scene;
the boxing exhibition
that ended the cold war.
In the film, Rocky overcame
insurmountable odds to win;
in my version, he just kept on
getting his tiny ass kicked
until he started crying
and throwing real punches at me
– or Drago, if you will – which led
to an unfortunate escalation,
and perhaps even a few
Queensbury rule violations,
which led to Drago and Balboa’s mom
bursting in to win the match by default.
It was in those formative years
that I learned the greatest truth
about action fiction;
the bad guy may not always win,
but he usually has the most fun.
Written for NaPoWriMo Day 15 prompt: “a poem in which a villain faces an unfortunate situation, and is revealed to be human (but still evil).”
Sorry for the delay. It was a loooong drive to Whistler. I’m a day behind and punch-drunk from lack of sleep, but I hope to find my footing soon.