Love Poem

He had L O V E tattooed across his clenched right fist, followed by P O E M, etched in a vagabond's quill, across the other LOVE POEM. And with these fists coming at you in unison, you copped a taste of his, LOVE POEM. He stalked the crooked lines of this world, straightening them out with a little, LOVE POEM. "My old man fixed the world with his fists . . . in his memory I have a little, LOVE POEM . . ." He'd start out with the POEM and then he'd flourish it with some LOVE, his one-two, two-one strategies with bloody tattooed gloves. In time he no longer used his real name, just the combination of slugs . . . LOVE POEM, POEM, LOVE, LOVE POEM, LOVE POEM, POEM, LOVE . . . This hard, crooked world could use some tenderizing, with a little LOVE POEM, LOVE POEM, LOVE . . . POEM!