How to Fight Like a Mexican

“I turned him into a Mexican tonight. He fought like a Mexican.”

Conor McGregor after losing Mayweather Jr. vs. McGregor (2017)

let them talk their shit

    tell you

          speak up boy

    demand

        gratefulness for earning

                    what you deserve

    to not look

         in their eyes

      when you dance for them

     call you

      a little cholo gangster

              from the hood

      a crackhead ese

      a cockroach

      a mexican

laugh at whiteness

                    try to make what you are proud of

                      an insult

          try to make itself undefeatable

    before defeat

          reward itself for talking shit

but make a problem out of yours

whiteness rewards whiteness

    more than brown work

            brown victory     

            brown history

be careful

when whiteness wins

    by a margin

they will sing it              as the only thing that matters

smoke lots of

weed

cannabis oil

blunts

say

       fuck you

       fuck you

       fuck your whole team

say

       not much else

as fighting will be your poetry

      a blow to the body the punctuation

                                                        for every motion

each line of movement                            

    its own promise

        of savage epiphany:

clenched fists may hold pen and/or violence

there will be times for both

see posters

        of your opponent’s face

  your brown face absent

        write your name over theirs

*

walk into the ring

let them boo you

    cheer the other

do not touch gloves

          as you talk shit to one another

walk into your corner

wait for the referee to clap

clap

fight like a mexican

win in the second round

with

        head punches

        taunts exposing your heart

      the inside of your biceps

  palms open

please hit me

     jabs to the chin

        near the neck

     slap away any attempts at chokes

when they taunt

    spin your fists over the other

      telling them to hurry

watch them become sloppy

try to keep up

            a dying bull

                      full of proud denial

reward them with the blood of your face

              smeared across their body

mount them

          your hips to their torso

  punch downward

          their face shaking side to side

they will shift to their stomach

      punch the side of their head

      create room

                for your forearm

    for a final breath

forearm to neck

    constrict

        brown muscles bulging to near burst

                    until they tap

      faster than hummingbird wings

let them hold your hand up

say

      I’m not surprised

motherfuckers

win

       but be paid less anyways

get your bonus award

cash the check

  buy a whole bunch of nice shit

  smoke more weed   demand more money

  for next match

because

    fuck you

           fuck you

                fuck your whole team