Imagine waking up as Lennox Lewis,
the undisputed champion of the world
and wondering (between your cornflakes) who is
the next in line to swallow punches hurled
from shoulders honed for clinical destruction
(those lonely hours you pummelled on the sack);
imagine a career based on reduction
of brain to pulp (and still the boys come back
for more). Imagine how Mohammed Ali
feels now (he was your hero long before
your star had risen). Nagging doubts? But rally
your flagging spirits - Frankie's at the door
with plans to help you make him richer, "My son,
we'll talk of quitting later. After Tyson".

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