The lights go out just before the music hits
Flashing pyro illuminates undulating muscle
Beneath taut, tanned skin
Eyes open and flare in fire plumes
Every hand in the crowd folds into a coyote
Before he raises his own above his head
The deliberate ringward march
A seamless mix of high fives
Coyote kisses and screaming kids
Mimicking his every move
A standing leap to the apron
He leans into the ropes and howls
Front flips into the ring
Lights out—spotlight
The opponent—interchangeable,
Inconsequential—has left the ring
Seems hesitant to re-enter
Crowd noise holds
After the song fades
And the jobber slips back in
He lets the kid get him
In a hammerlock and takes
A suplex close enough to the ropes
To break the pin at one
Then he starts in
Lets the crowd bring him to life
The lariat flips the kid inside out
He’s alone again, soaking it in
When his music roars back
It’s enough to carry him
To the next town
Hailing from the muddy banks of the Mississippi, Chris Dolan is the reigning and defending editor in chief of One Fall Review.
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