ADAM STEVE

ADAM STEVE

The sub-frozen tundra cast its repressed severity
radiantly over its Lambeau Field memoirs
chiming breathless dreams

From the abyss of the assembled molecules
busy rustling heavily gloved hands together
their faces masked surreptitiously

Beneath knitted hooded helmets
beards, ears, eyes, lips salivating, mouths, nasal drips

Coaxingly stitched together
cleave determinedly to skins

Sticking fast to proliferating

Icicle particles

Plaxico Burress

In pirouette precision

Team mate Manning,
strutting the pas de dieu,

Seethes at opposing phenom,

Brett Favre,
fleshing gritted resolves,

Spanking ferociously

Al Harris’s Styrofoam challenges
concertedly determined to freeze the Giants

In their sisyphesian goal
with a Packer’s adieu

Daddy Adam

Swiveling olives impaled on sticks

Among home grown heroes,
Abe, Aaron, Dave, and so on.

Chips, chugs, mugs,
nuts on locust licorice, etc.,

Enjoys an event’s festal foray
warming frozen fans

-Invading nomads-

Convening for a faux pas
cheering the homeboy Giant challengers
Teasing martinis

As the wasted Packers tackle attackers
at the bottom of Daddy’s aperitif.

Alpha honeys, beta wives, escorts, girlfriends, mamas, sweethearts

Accomplices, all

gals gallivanting

in an Hieronymus Bosch’s
“Garden of Delights” portrait

Abet Mother Eve

-whose self-claimed ‘hostess cup-cake’ sweetness

The ‘apple’ of Daddy Adam’s adoration-
engages haughtily with girl-friends,

Under the shade

Of an overheated conduit
buried in the bleachers of Green Bay field

“Here, Daddy! Munch on a talon

Tamed for you!
Makes this freeze for all warm you

Having a good time Pops”
“Ta, Ma;

Hey guys! Listen up”

Shouts Daddy Adam to his boisterous hoodies
imbibing transcontinental six pacs

native Cana Manishewitz, Eden Lager,
Ewe 666 Ale, Galilean Comforts, Gommaroh Stout, Porkslap Pale Ale

Prophet Daniels.

Interrupting again,

Daddy Adam yells

“Guys hush for a few,

will you!”
“When your kids;

Their kids learn history

What we do for fun

How our boy
Adam Steve,

For one exhales

How we chill
the wild side

Here’s how he

His mates tell it…


“Hey, Mama!

Where’s our boy, anyway.”

Adam, kiddo, where are you?”

“Daddy, Adam’s
down in the dugout maybe,

Where else?’

“Honey!

Helloooo, Steeeevey!”
Mother Eve

Exasperated, exhausted, in her state,

indifferently, shrugs her shoulders

Meanwhile,

In the pit

Buried below the frigid bowels of the stadium’s subterranean conundrum
-ammonia, body sweat, bulging biceps, odors,

Steam urea from spandex veined triceps

Filtering erogenous stimulants everywhere-

Here Adam Steve is elementary.
Smiles stigmatizing his ‘hazel’ eyes

Revolve in their orbits
contrite from basting in pureed spirituals;

An Eponymous potentate in an
imaginary carnage

Of another’s elimination.

“Daddy, he’s your son alright

Sure don’t take after his mother,
You know what they say

‘Bout them silent ones’, father,

What they say again?

Oh, yeah, ‘runs deep’

Should be a girl for me this round”

“For your sake ma,

(hiccup),

Hope so”

Daddy Adam’s Pork slap breath

Burps sympathetically.

POSTED BY RUFUSHEAP