In the Heat of the Now – By Mike Breen


(Intercepted from the desk of Mike Breen)

Torture me, Heat men

Make me your slave

I yearn to wear scars

Of scaldings you gave 


One step remains

The ultimate stage

Your triumph, your moment

Released from your cage


A man of my age

Has seen and done

Yet envies your being

United as one


Gods in our presence

By will or by fate

Kings for their crowns

Courtesy the 27th state


Speaking of kings

The one they call “James”

Supreme and divine

In basketball games


And then there is Dwayne

Whose waters I’d Wade

And roll in the sheets

Of the bed thy had made


The two, and myself

Where could it lead?!

Arousal ensured

The Big Three, indeed



Sounds of my name

Roll off their lips

Role of the servant

Rolling my hips


Dreams that I dream

Days of desire

Dozens of daisies

Burn and perspire


Onto my knees

Hand to the thigh

Melt me away

“Rio!” I cry


On Battier!  On Haslem!

On Anthony!  On Cole!

The seas of their souls

May swallow me whole


Back to the King

His glory – not new to me

I haven’t the time

To fully explain the numerous things that I wish he would do to me



Bosh, oh, Bosh

Once hurt on the floor

Arose from the ashes

Hurting no more


South Beach adores

But not like me

Need like I need?

Highly unlikely


Role of the victim

You be the killer

Slice me wide open

Do it, Mike Miller


Decisions, decisions

Worst of the kind

Blowout success?

Or come from behind?


James once again

More must be said

Mouth to the tip

Like the band to his head


Not the frantic freak type

But if you speak right

You get to take me out

And dig me out on a weeknight


Men of the Heat

Say all the right words

Turiaf and Curry

The bees and the birds


To finish my prose

I leave with a saying:

“I go ‘concrete’…

… when Miami is playing.”



Rings for the lords

I pray we see

While I praise them, live

… on ABC.




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