Homage to Hugh Hefner
So many bad things to be said of him:
the brazenly objectified women
the absurdity of that scarecrow body
in its silk pajamas, the soullessness
of much of his sex, the general vulgarity
of everything he stands for. Yet where
in the hearts of most men isn’t there
a morsel of envy for someone so brazen
about what he wants, and, what’s more,
able to get it? Who among the
badly married or discontentedly tethered
hasn’t dreamt of a few nights
in the Playboy mansion of his dreams,
all that politically incorrect pleasure,
Jacuzzis-full of beautiful women
fawning over him merely for paying
their bills? Client #9s from every walk of life-
governors, congressmen, vacuum
cleaner salesmen of the world-
which one hasn’t, on some failed evening
amid love’s vast concordance of harms,
wanted to be him? Old Bunny man,
lucky rake, satiated satyr of yesteryear,
so much lubricated pussy and breast
with your silk pajamas and your Viagra
and all that singing to come at your lonely grave.