Testoterone spiked the air,
Yes that's right:
Bravado invisibly pricked.
Battle potential flooded real fists.
Fast and furious: fracturing time.
Blood punched the floor,
Spotting the pavement liquid crimson.
There'll be hours yet for analysing a drunken flush.
One way to make it into Sunday, high on last night's supply and now with a bloodied nose.
Didn't think - maybe I will leave now;
Why end on a fight?
Why not say- it's 9 o'clock, the sun's out, there's ducks, kids and joggers - I'm off to sleep it off?
But that would preclude:
Teasing out the finer details.
Holding up old badges of honour.
Thumping the chest.



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