An obsession with
Seamless alabaster skin,
And the perfect frames
It’s covering will no doubt
Be my undoing,
And as sun-kissed
Hides file past I find
Myself gasping at their
Fastenings and wondering
What I ever saw in cream;
And when Asian and
Oriental wonders of the
Female world uncurl
Their legs in my direction
I’m phallically affected.
And ochre tones lay
Me prone in the closed
Company of memories
Of African women
Chasing me upstairs.
And then I’m spared
Any embarrassment by
The fact that all the
Attractive men have
Beaten me there, again.
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