The whole morning consisted
Of examining sketches, of curves
Of soft flesh, of exposed *******
Contorted bodies, figures
Now, long since dead
Captured by the stroke
Of some artist with a fetish

You know, eroticism can taint one’s mind
Distort one’s thoughts, drive one mad?

Or at least, that’s the joke

You *******, you go blind
Your palms go hairy

As a child I heard that joke
Took it so seriously, religiously
That every time I saw a blind person
I thought they deserved it