The lympics

Ah me, pray tell, where went that uproarious din of competition? Which way that chorus of tales weaved in great compendiums of comedy, tragedy and epic high farce, that churning stream of just desserts for humans who would tickle fickle fate? What winds scattered it and where, and for why so long after scant sixteen days? How came I to be so seduced, so voracious, despite such cynicism, my eyes this blackly ringed each dawn?

Ah me, pray tell, where whiles now this orgy of sport? And whither wends it?

(Not likely unto Melbourne 2006, this much I avouch. Yet, if e'er the clarion call of the Southern Republic sound, it might sound loudest above the immediate tedium of the Commonweal.)

Joseph | 30 Aug 2004

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