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Gloss

Glossy printouts of men who aged like
Tempered glass--that is, not at all,
Dossiers of a time before when
Beauty was all the rage;
Pumped full of preservatives like a pescetarian's perception of a poultry farm
Facsimiles of freighted and weighted hearts against the scale
Of Anubis, God forgive me for my sins,
Lightness of a feather and beauty fair,
Nothing will compare to
Choppy cuts of magazines of sculpted figures
The never aging demon or vampire or what have you--
Because no woman fantasizes about growing old together.
Vacuum-sealed wrinkles. Dentures on the side table.
And worst of all knowing that you're gonna die.
Nobody wants to be reminded of that--so I suppose
That's why you see less love interests who have faded with time
And far, far more that are flawless to the tips.