His anger seered, yet behind his eyes
Hid a petty steer
In a pasture of manure and tattoo ink
He stepped to me, and I did not blink
And thank God that he thought to think
That I would not be toyed with
That when he would swing his fist, it would be him
Who would pay
And when his fellow red Angus stomped and leered
I knew no fear
For both were dumb beasts
Vying for the last green leaf of taunting
Which I saved for the last stand
When neither raised a hand, but ridiculed and mocked
I got in, flipped a bird with a smirk on my face
Then left behind the inbred disaster
How humorous it looked in the rear view
And how marvelous
Now that they knew who was who
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