I called both fights,
the Armenian,

then Adams,
the latter spelling out

his bad intentions
with a nasty right hook,

the former,
though rusty, knowing

every trick in the book.
Oh, age.

I could be proud
that I’m never surprised

but I’d trade it all
for something unpredictable

for once, not just Friday nights
in sweats, texting my dad

about the fights—
I think this guy will win,

and then he does.
What did Teddy say?

Something about needing
lightning of out a clear sky—

I want a shake-up, I want
an upset, I want

to want, again,
something staggering,

for my heart
to land

just like a blow–
some sharp and solid

and lasting
connection.