Before the internet
I looked for women,
images I could hold
on to like
a lacy trace
of **** fabric
that rides up and down
the sweet side
of her soft thighs.
The curling black
consuming skin,
but there were spots
where *******
bulged and
bloomed again.
I looked on
in loving lust.
Desire stirred
and I moved as I must
*******
to the devastating
illusion of
secret catalog queens.