Was,
And is our time.
A shaking of too many bodies-
An aggressive bobbing of heads-
And the brawl was on.
My already pounding heart wiggled in its cave
As a close friend took four fists to the dome.
The hospitality of Rumblin' Dyl was shat upon,
and there was swinging to do.
First we attempted rationality-
Impossible,
And a dumb choice to begin with.
The first scuffle recedes into a new shouting match.
I do what I can to separate the equally enraged parties.
Being as im not a fan of shouting I clenched my fists and readied my self for round two.
Across the sea of T-shirts and faces wrinkled in anger I could the Rumblin' Dyl.
Disbelief.
Maybe it was more than that-
Restraint.
But the Rumbler wasn't in any way well known for his hesitation.
A hot head in any circle.
Round two begins and now there are bottle flying.
Hudson Sando Had an arm around his neck in seconds.
Me and two mexicans began working on the strangler,
A shaved head like his laughed at our swings,
But released Hudson-
Now we were the target.
I hadn't yet drawn the attention of an individual at this point,
and now I feared the wrath of this hard head.
Bruises heal but I was far too broke to buy new glasses.
Foolish worry.
The Mexican to right takes one to the gut and isn't fazed.
A shake of the head and a swinging of my sight shows me Monk-
A close ally.
He scans the fray as I was and we link eyes.
Without a nod we both grapple a member of the opposing force,
Tearing at his limbs- pulling toward the door.
Within the chorus of shouters I found it surprisingly easy to discern the voices of friendlies .
'Just get em outside!' A tall drunkard whos name escapes me the second I grasp for it-
A regular and a member of the tribe,
But his name remains strange.
We all begin to push.
Round two and three blended seamlessly but things had escalated.
It was difficult to make it through the crowded opening in the sliding glass door,
but we managed.
Part of me-
Stay out.
Most of me-
Allies are in need of reinforcements.
The cloud of fists and domes was swelling,
Innocent soft fists were being pommeled.
I spotted a group of terrified,
Crying,
Over dressed girls and squeezed them out the door behind me.
'Get in the alley' I suggested.
They were more than happy to leave.
Back to it.
The door way had cleared and the cloud had moved to the next room-
Still round three and everyone was full of energy.
It was too hectic to now which side was coming out on top,
But knowing our tribe,
There were plenty of willing boxers just waiting to get a hit in.
The bookcase wobbled and threatened to fall
(A book case I had already almost destroyed that night with a well placed drunken stumble)
Things were breaking.
The cloud bursts out the front door-
Only furthering the chaos.
A home made trailer chasse was leaning on the wall opposite the door-
One of our braves was hurled to meet it-
Dome connection.
I began to feel actual fear when the ringing of the steel reached my ears.
Metal and domes don't mix.
Rumblin' Dyl had somehow ended up to the left of me and I was out of the fight.
He was concerned and my fight had done all it could do at this point.
'This shit ain't-' He starts ' No no get the fuck out!' . I hesitate to say he shouted but project-
He did.
Command.
' Call the cops someone's going to get killed!' One of the twins begged.
She was scarred but wasn't the type to give up ground-
She was up front with the boys.
I had at this point begun to worry for both sides.
Our town had a way of fighting past the point of necessity.
Regardless of my rage and distain for the bastards who started all of this,
soiling a fairly 'swingin' engagement-
I couldn't wish any permanent damage on them.
' Ya man call em, shits fucked' I agreed.
I saw Monk in the storm and jumped in to assist-
unspoken pact,
woulda done the same.
'Lets just get the fuckers into the street'
We begin shoving and grappling-
launching bodies the second we get hold.
Down the porch stairs-
A body hits a car-
A naked back hits the picket fence.
Round four had begun without me noticing-
and reached a calm.
Calm in average standards-
No.
Comparatively however-
there was a lull.
Space between the feuding parties had grown enough for those who charged,
To cross the void,
Were easily restrained.
Monk and I were now in damage control mode,
stopping friends from crossing to the enemy's side for more swings,
and stopping the opposition from getting back to the house.
The Po had been called and were en route-
The thugs from some other tribe,
these antagonists,
had wandered never turning a shoulder or batting an eye,
into the street.
'We gonna fuuuck you up BITCH!' A tall and furious black directed at me.
He was the roughest of them all.
Hard face- red shirt- yellow eyes- no sense.
They all offered another brawl.
Our side shouted back further challenges and taunts.
Burns if you will.
Creative curses I wish I could remember.
A couple willing acquaintances had joined Monk and I,
On the sidewalk in between our tribe and the enemy.
I wasn't worried about them re-igniting things,
didn't have the desire and you could tell.
Tone says everything.
Monk got the nerve to walk out into the street,
To negotiate.
It was as he ad approached a wasps nest,
The way the bent and readied themselves,
for more violence.
A quick vision of Monk on the ground,
being bombarded by basketball shoes-
That'd be good to avoid.
So I joined him.
Things were more than tense-
The tension grew every step I took.
I wasn't too worried-
It wasn't fear anymore,
But if I wasn't so concerned with emerging unscathed
my hand could have shook.
It was still and we began trying to reason with them again.
'Look this can all end if you just take off, no stress from us we don't give a shit'
I offered as unthreateningly as possible.
They spat replies that could have been grunts-
Angry and unsatisfied.
No luck.
'Dude no one in there want's to fuck around and were just-' Monk began.
'FUCK you fool' The hard faced black barked stepping closer.
'Here we go'
I thought it but may have said it aloud.
' Man just take off no ones comin' after ya' Monk said with a compromising tone.
Tone.
Always the key.
Still they spat curse and hate.
They were the type who were used to speaking with their fists.
'Tell em the cops are comin'!' A voice (no clue who) suggested.
' Ey man the cops are comin' theyre close- just take off before they get here.'
I said. They actually paused and their stances changed.
The idea of leaving was sounding good now.
They run.
The cruisers whip around the corner-
Four.
A fire truck-
Always a surprising guest in altercations like these.
Didn't seem to be a reason.
Maybe they were bored.
An ambulance-
I hadn't seen, or rather inspected the wounds of those around me,
But there was blood on most of the door frames inside.
The enemy had made it to the corner when they were apprehended.
Tried to warn em.
Searches-
Badges walking through halls of shaken wallflowers
Once rowdy and full of shouts-
I sit on a metal chair,
Glad the boxing is over,
and ready for the PO-Show.
They look around,
scanning meaningless contraband.
Pot was un-impressive in burbank-
Anything harder-
surely nestled snug between nuts and thigh-
Cheek and Cheek-
Swallowed by the ambitious.
I did what I could to explain the situation,
In my best Po voice.
Welcoming,
Subservient,
The essential bitch.
Sometimes you just gotta bend over.
Everything cleared and party goers dispersed.
Monk, Me, One of the twins, The Queen
(Who had been dubbed so this night by searching and finding)
and Rumblin' Dyl sat upstairs,
Dyl's room.
We indulged and reflected-
apologized as a third party-
and left the battleground.
Blood-
Fines-
Badges-
Searches-
Between the moon and the sun
Was,
And is our time.
I tap these keys as the sun is rising,
the tribe has held its ground.
Between the moon and the sun
Was,
And is our time.
