the sylvan strains of syracuse
disrupt the football players in
their locker room.
the tumescence of the situation
is sex toy phallus, balls furry hairy
brush-like trimmed and all stages in
between. stag-night the suppository
delight of beer-tube enemas.
gruff voices of aftershave
enoble the basest aspirations.
the stitching on the footballs
frankensteinian in flexibility.
only the choicest sirloin,
the potatoes french or mashed,
nothing else seems to satisfy
the constant want need eat it
gotta have it down the throat
tube to belly direct flight
if at all possible. tongue
might be tickled, but just
get the good stuff to the gut.
there are legendary quagmires
in the way the sexy naked
men line up along the
showerroom walls, the hot
steaminess pile-driving over
the surfaces of their
anatomical extravagances,
even the wet shiny lip
twists, the chins wiped
with the lotion of
pure ticklish notions.
greta the garbo,
stan the man.
–Carl Miller Daniels