10.27.2011

I'm a Dancer, Not a Boxer



I'm not a boxer, but talking to you makes me feel like I am one.

You are a brawler and you fight dirty.

I'm not a boxer, but a dancer, strong and agile.

I can dance circles around you and leave you without a partner.

Every conversation starts off with a jab or two.

A few friendly punches, at first, until you land a low blow.

You always hit below the belt, never a knock out, but enough to try and knock me down.

I really don't get why.

I'm not a boxer. I am a dancer and the music I hear drowns out your noise.

I play along. Go with the flow, swing like a haymaker but end up kissing the canvas.

You can't keep me down, I am not a boxer and you're lucky there’s no ref to call foul.

Just you wait though.

I'll throw a feint and you'll fall through the ropes.

You won't know what hit you but you will be down for the count and I would have clinched the win.

You will look a fool because I am not a boxer.

If that is what I wanted, but it's not.

Let's call it a draw, go back to our corners, hang up the gloves and live to fight another day.

The problem is, I'm not a boxer and I'm off to dance alone.








Some people consider themselves athletes. Others do not.  Write a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction in which athleticism features prominently. Use one of the photographs for inspiration.

Let’s try 400 words or less, please.
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