Bridge Over Troubled Water

The Boxer

The Boxer


"Less than two months to go, Steve. Do you have it all planned out? More importantly, does Sheila suspect anything?"

"Well, I was hoping for Trinidad and Tobago, y'know? Trinidad's the home of calypso and steelpan music, and the islands are practically a rock-throw from Venezuela. It would have been a great two-fer," he sighed.

"But...?"

"Yeah - but. Sheila's passport's expired and there's no practical way to get it renewed in time, not to mention keeping it a secret. I can see just how it would play out, too: "Hey, sweetie, I'm heading to the post office. Wanna come with?" "And just what would I do there?" "Well, you could pick out some cool stamps for us, even get your picture taken!" "My picture? Okay - what's going on, Steve?""

"Yeah," laughed Rick, "I see what you mean. So, what's Plan B?"

"The U.S. Virgin Islands. They're cool, we've never been there, either, and the expired passport wouldn't be an issue. If we felt like it, we could even hop over to Puerto Rico. I saw a National Geographic special about bioluminescent bays, and Puerto Rico has three of the world's five. The one on the southwest corner of the island looked especially cool."

"That sounds fantastic, man! So, she's still in the dark?"

"Planning a U.S.-only vacation's a lot simpler, so I've been able to keep things under wraps. Thing is, though, she may be getting a little suspicious; she's definitely getting a little annoyed."

"Annoyed?"

"Yeah. She's been hinting at stuff she'd like to do for her birthday and, while I've never come right out and said 'No' or that I didn't like her ideas, well, let's just say my responses have been less than enthusiastic. If I'm not careful, I'll end up sleeping on the couch right up to the week we start packing for Charlotte Amalie."

"The week before? Not the day before?"

"Oh, no, man! If I tried to keep her from shopping for the trip, there'd only be one of us alive to even get on the plane!"

The men shared a hearty laugh.

"Too true, Steve! Too true. Say," Rick checked his watch, "I'd better get going. Your mention of National Geographic earlier reminded me of a PBS Special I want to watch tonight. Muhammad Ali passed away this month back in 2016`and they're airing a retrospective."

"Now, there was a fighter," Steve acknowledged.

"Sure was, in and out of the ring, right up to the end. I'll never forget him lighting the Olympic flame in Atlanta at the '96 Summer Games, the Parkinson's making his hands shake so bad."

"Yep, and being named an honorary Olympic flag bearer for the 2012 Summer Games in London was pretty cool, too. Have a good evening, Rick."

"You, too, Steve."


[WC: 464]

Lyrics ▼

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles such are promises
All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest, mhmm

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of a railway station running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

[Following verse, originally included on the single, does not appear on the album version]
Now the years are rolling by me
They are rocking evenly
I am older than I once was
And younger than I'll be, that's not unusual
It isn't strange after changes upon changes
We are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone, going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me
Leading me, going home

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him 'til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains, mhmm