201. Champions

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The Olympics are a marvelous sport
A marvelous showing of sports
After a long haul from Las Vegas
While eating at the Bass Pro Shop
A bowl of Gator Mac n’ Cheese
And some curious bread
Curiously coated in sugar.

The female gymnasts are something
Something entirely else
Something worth watching and admiring
For their skill and their strength
And their –

“Shit, man, that’s one sexy ass.”
Ah?
“You’re crazy, man, that girl can’t be more than sixteen.”
“I’m just sayin’, just sayin’.”

Further down the bar they sat
A pair of Hispanic brothers
Not much older than I, but rougher
With blank eyes and mumbling throat
That mixed English action with Spanish expletive –

“That one. That one would be great in bed.”
“Nah, man, her rack would get in the way.”
“Idiot!”
“Gymnasts are supposed to be flexible. How she balance with those tits?”
“You’re just sayin’ that because she not sixteen.”
“Fuck you, man!”

Their argument proceeds unhindered
By consciousness of conscience
Or that they’re in a public place
Or that the bartender is a woman
Or that I am a professional eavesdropper-

Ah?
So it seems they are conscious
Of the bartender being a woman
As they eye her plump thighs
When her back is turned
But then shake their heads
And return to the gymnasts

“Hey, what position is a gymnast best at?”
“Que?”
“Fucking, man. What position?”
“They’re gymnasts, bro, they’re probably sick in all of them.”
And so the banter back and forth
Continued on and on
As I ate my Gator Mac n’ Cheese
And wondered if the male athletes
Receive the same kind of attention –
Then realized the only conscious thought
You have while seeing the Olympics,
Never watching,
Is probably the same these brothers have-
For who else really watches?

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