Streaking
is among our most
unfairly
underrated arts.
It’s
not that it enables peeking
at
the streaker’s private parts,
but
rather that it fosters fleeting
sight
of the reflection on uncovered
skin
of sports arena light.
A
glimpse of something clear
that
might have generated
salivation
in Vermeer.
It
might relieve the tedium
in
stadiums of watching
meaninglessly
scheming teams
pursue
the black hole of another
stuporously
senseless goal.
Elevate
the Super Bowl.
.
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