Locker Room Intimacies

I don't recall all that much talk in locker rooms. These are typically quiet as reflective libraries unless involved in team sports. Then locker room talk may review a well played game, but, again, those played less fortunately, less familiarly, not really too much to say, sometimes thinking of other more nutritionally feeding things, people, places in time's perpetually receding memory. Rooms for locking up over yanged secrets are not known for either quality or quantity of affluent speech. These are more about actions outside these locking up rooms, reveling to reveal ourselves and others an embarrassment of self-ridiculing riches. But, I do recall I thought I could hear which brand of ecopolitical life a locker room voice would choose, usually somewhere between raping victims only good for bullying and standing in solidarity with teams and leagues and games where we learn more from losing together than winning apart in superhero myths and antics of unfettered self-supremacy, hubris of engorged, yet over-rated disengaged, penises with hands for grabbing and taking what can only be given as an intimate gift. In some ways we are all locked rooms, craving intimacy that causes tremors terrible tremblings, not terror and yet terror's opposite. What names we have found for ecstasy of unlocked talking and walking, playing and working and wondering how could ecstasy sustain through decades of morning and night time dressing to undress routines and all invitations in between.