Chrysanthemum Joe visited Galveston
to "instruct" in the art of self-defense
since prize fighting was against the law
in Texas back then. Joe was a dandy
dressed up as a prize fighter. A sport
with blond waves, a little too comfortable
in his bright red costume. Joe looked
small, but I heard he hit Jim Jeffries
so hard the bigger man's teeth came out
through his lip. Jeffries once kept a grizzly
as a pet, so what does that say about Joe's
disposition? It didn't matter that Joe's
hair stayed fixed in place like he used
maca**ar oil that he looked like he
would rather be at a poetry recitation.
Our meeting was the shortest fight
of my career. The man pursued me
like it was personal & I went down
in the third thanks to a hard left to my eye.
His fists were so fast I'm still looking
for them. I was up quick, but the rangers
stampeded the ring, six-shooters gleaming
in the lights. Joe & I ended the evening
in the crossbar hotel. Lucky for us
Sheriff Thomas enjoyed the fistic science
& "suggested" we spar to pa** the time.
No ring, no gloves--just and abundance
of split lips & name-calling. Joe instructed
me during those long, gloveless brawls.
Right-hand leads, snake-strike lefts--
all while working to duck the other
man's fists. He told me, *a man that can
move like you should never take a punch.*