The Object of Desire
April 21 2022
Long hair
tumbling down her back
bleached a brassy blonde.
A winter tan
from a plastic bottle
that's starting to stain her blouse,
the hot overhead lights
making her sweat, instead of glow.
White teeth
that gleam with modern chemistry,
but make her smile
seem insincere.
Of course, she rarely smiled,
and the cool hauteur
of her sulky pout
risks becoming permanent.
But I have to admit,
in the photograph
carefully staged and perfectly lit
she looks beautiful;
a brittle beauty, perhaps
and somehow unnatural,
but one that men desire
and other women envy.
But seeing her pose like this
I detect a certain neediness
as if desperate for approval.
Insecure,
because she wants to be loved
for more than her beauty,
and knows that age
won't treat her well.
I prefer the well-scrubbed health
of the girl-next-door;
approachable,
some meat on her bones,
and a genuine smile
that lights up her eyes
doesn't hide the crooked tooth.
Her flaws, like mine
plainly on display.
Even though
as she once was told,
smile enough
and the crow's feet will stay.
The object of desire
who works so hard for it.
And the girl we end up falling for
with the strength to be herself.
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