O for any and each the body correlative and attracting.
Singing the muscular urge and the blending…
the welcome nearness… the sight of the perfect body.
The splendor of the opening ceremony and around the
corner the reeking-of-life favelas monitored by
Praetorian Guards with automatic weapons. Keep out
the riff raff, the plenty persons near but not
the hot, the right ones.
The corruption of city-states, the poor, the beggared,
and the rich, the corporate and the incorporate; the
dopers, tokers, and politicians.
The athletes, lithe, lean, and lovely, and the “bulge.”
Ah! The fit-witless and the bulge of youth, the beauty
anyway and incorruptible discipline and dedication
irrelevanced by “commercials.”
And on Copacabana Beach, “We don’t need a stadium
to play volleyball.”
Oh Latin America, Oh Columbus, Columbanumbus!
The New World screwed screwing itself.
The hungry gnaw that eats me night and day…
I need another glass of cachaca and a plate of feijoada.
Tonight I dance with the dancers and drink with the
drinkers. Everyone is my friend even the crooks
on the Olympic Committee.
Bob Katrin is a writer and poet living in Southern Pines, NC.
