Issue 72, Winter 1977
Two muscle men stand face to face
in a large field and begin an Olympic insult contest.
The sky is blue and gold like a Swedish flag
and one calls the other a creep.
They look like peacocks in their colorful sporting gear
and the other calls the first one a sad shit.
People stop on their way home from work to watch.
An enterprising young man opens up a beer concession,
and the first one calls the other one a fart head.
The officials arrive in blazers and sit on folding chairs,
they take notes and hold up cards with numbers on them,
television cameras get into position, cables and microphones too,
and the other one calls the first one a stupid prick.
Their faces are beet-red, nose to nose. It is too late
in the game for composure now that the Goodyear blimp is overhead
filming this crowd that has swelled to 300,000 fans
and the first one calls the other one a dumb fuck.