When I Wanted Women

When I wanted women in my youth

I was wicked.  That’s the truth.

I desired only that which pleased the eyes:

smooth thighs, breasts, grapefruit-sized-

large grapefruit.  I didn’t want a wife

or a worthwhile, humble family life

as much as I wanted a collection

of female body parts, formed to perfection

prominently displayed in a locked glass case

and my wicked desires drove met to chase

supermodels.  But they didn’t like me.

Eventually, I married Beverly.

I’ve lived with her long, long enough to tell

that common monogamy works out well

and though the sight of Beverly casts no spell

she’ll keep my spirit out of Hell.