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Back from commercial the camera's on Mario,
dressed in his colors and gear,
crouched forward
on the bench, in the defecating position of athletes at rest—
He's the chief executive
now,
and principal owner—
playing
again, his return
as a player a grandiose gesture
to help
Pittsburgh become a contender.
Mario's virtuous angelic face, with his warm
brown eyes and
features symmetrically placed,
the magnanimous obverse in visual counterpoint
with the man
sharing his surname, Lemieux:
Claude's sneer and hot glower, keen glacial blue eyes,
protected by plexiglass visor,
a permanent taunt to opponents, that dares them
to stop him from looking right through, like they're not even there,
or perhaps to the soul:
every opponent an obstacle, barrier, thing
to be breached, overcome, until knocked off their game
they retaliate, cue for
the smirking reaction he calculates
far in advance
of his subsequent goal.