Earlier, I wrote of kung fu fighting
Without a disco beat or
Choreographed fight scenes or
Any magic techniques learned sanding decks.
No, this was a straight-up accounting
Of mountain climber bad timing
When a salmon swimming upstream
Ran into an unaware momma bear.
But that wasn’t even close
To being the highlight of the morning.
The main event preceded the ass-kicking
But there wasn’t any Cobra Kai physical contact.
The lane lines were set,
It was time to move them,
The previously mentioned instructor
Went about her business doing so.
The first blow in this earring removing donnybrook
Involved a turf marking question from a surgical glove-wearing
Person rarely seen in the important environs of the Y pool,
“And what predicated the rearranging of the lane lines?”
Sometimes I look at my kids with both a dumbfounded gaze
When they say something to their mother
That shows how little they fear death.
In those moments, I sincerely worry for their safety.
Being the boundary between the faux doctor in blue and
The combat instructor with mystical connections to fabled powers,
I knew I had to move. The forthcoming answer would be heard
With enough Darth Vader and grizzly to push me towards the closet.
“Oh, for class. There’s a class?”
I turned to see the gore I was sure was coming, Blue Lady
Had gone to a place my masculine skills of observation could not comprehend,
My friend, the instructor, a perfectly capable deliverer of pain
Showed restraint at this feminine incursion into her kingdom,
That was that, it was over,
No one got hurt, although I believe Veruca might have felt her power play failed
And my friend was silently steaming as steam rose from her in the pool,
The whole thing stole my energy and made me lazy in class…yep…