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Poem

He was in none of my classes
In the 1980's
And I saw him only on test days
Where one had to perform his "kata"
And fight in the ring
For the Sensai to do his thing

At these graduation tests
Where we seeked the next higher belt
Several schools would meet
And it was on one of these occasions,
I met a student with the most deadly feet...

Wasn't that he kicked well,
Or scared us in the ring,
It was the putrid odor,
That made our noses so sting

I doubt he'd washed his feet in decades,
The stench was so very strong,
Sitting there waiting to fight,
I wondered what was going wrong

He wasn't even near me,
But yet I choked and gagged
And when i did get closer,
I knew I had the culprit tagged

I but merely hoped I didn't have to fight him,
Though I knew I could kick his ass,
But the thought of those stinking feet near me
Would be like being exposed to toxic gas

Well, I lucked out
His stench used
In someone else's bout..

But the memory of that smell
Lingers on until this day
I don't know if I can explain it,
I don't know quite what to say...

A power like that,
Stronger than martial arts,
Done merely with lack of soap...
I suppose I could have saved money
And joined him as a dope.

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