The Shore
Here, look at their bodies. Even clothed,
their skin is near to the surface, JWoww's
powerful breasts, Mike's self-exposed
abs. Every part is eventually eased out
for us to see by heat, the beach, shots
ten to a tray, bright blue, for free.
New and nameless lovers. Curls, squats,
the treadmill. Gym, tanning, the laundry:
each day, they control how they are seen.
We love them for it, hair extensions
and fake nails whipping across the screen.
Their dedication to pleasure stuns
us, and how easily they announce
their needs. I've gotta get it in tonight,
they say, and go to Karma, flounce
across the dance floor, pull a human tight
against them, and breathe into their neck,
Wanna see the house? We do, we look
on as they destroy the place, they wreck
it. After, we're surprised how long it took.
Follow Hannah Stephenson on Twitter: www.twitter.com/thestorialist
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