The auditions have begun
for my replacement
one by one
the parade of candidates
their auras awash in
pheromones
and fragrance
legs long and lean
hair that moves like silken waves
in the sun
curves of hip and thigh
unmarred by age and life
to rouse what I no longer can
I slink quietly to the side
and fade into the twilight
old, used and worn out
and I wonder
am I recycleable?
Could I be retouched
like the photographs
in the pin up
magazines - - -
Repackaged like an old
product
for a new market - - -
Made unreal in an attempt
to once more find something
real?
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