You Stare at Them, Can’t Help It
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You stare at them, can’t help it, as they stalk
Along the catwalk or they stare at you
From glossy magazines. Perhaps you gawk
At them as if your hungry look could hew
A way to beauty in their beds with them
Where you could lift that shirt and learn the truth
Or you could raise that stylish model’s hem
And play with nipples with your tongue and tooth.
That isn’t gonna happen. In your dreams
You’ll get to worship that young person’s shape
With fingers and with lips. And yet it seems
That that is possible just in a rape
Fantasy. They’re only empty images, of course.
They’re nothing your reality can force.
“their empty images that seem like persons” Dante, Inferno, Canto VI, 36