Watching Alone
To watch their bodies wrangling
Across the seedy floor,
To see them leaning, dangling,
To listen how they roar,
To hear them heave, to hear them grunt,
Without an intermission
To watch them back off, or affront,
Or try a new position,
To judge them as they bump and grind
And strip each other's skin,
To follow every plump behind
And every dribbling chin,
To see them, close up, on the screen,
And spot them feign a climax,
To have to guess if they're obscene
(Thank God it's not in IMAX),
To hear them sigh, to hear them groan
On greasy poles they climb:
I will not watch, not on my own,
The P.M.'s Question Time.
