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The Met

Greg G. Zaino

...Remembering a fight I’d had outside the Met Café in Providence
on a ruthlessly cold Saturday night. The heat began rising inside
at the bar, over a gal who’d just slipped me her phone number.
The bartender shouted over insanely loud music &
usual packed crowd, to take it outside in the parking lot.
A small crowd rushed out of the bar to watch the drama,
stood in a semi-circle. With antagonizing words of blood,
they egged us on, each emitting, through flared nostrils
& twisted mouths, hurried clouds like aerosol, in the arctic air.
I thought of the Colosseum.
The thirsty audience appeared to me as fuming bulls
in a warner bros cartoon. I smiled at that.
So, now it was time, my brute of an adversary
gets smack up in my face, bolstered by his friends in
the cheering section. Or perhaps he was being pushed to do something
he wasn’t absolutely comfortable with. Like me.
With gobbets of spit flying from his mouth, the offended party
screaming over the spurring crowd, informs me that the chick in the bar
was his ole lady, which I was absolutely unaware of, & let him know.
Told me, “Well You Should Have Known!”
I should have known? His supposed ‘ole lady’ had been
flirting with me the past 2 hours and slipped me her number.
How else was I supposed to interpret that?
I looked around & noticed she wasn’t in the crowd.
What followed out of his mouth; absolute nonsensical bullshit.
Rocky sprayed icy spit, his clouds of breath reeking of
the nasty smell of whiskey. & I hate that smell.
Insta’ bad memories of years past shot through my head.
Heaps of fucks & assholes were being thrown my way.
Okay, he’d had his say. Ole Rocky had turned on my ‘Let’s Go!’ button.
This wasn’t going to end peacefully, fuck that, I’d had enough.
& in that fraction of a second, I decided to go for it.
B’BAM-!
We head butted each other at the exact same moment.
Before it began, fight over for us both.
I remained friends with Don for over 20 years.
Funny how that goes sometimes...

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