The terrible truth

There goes this girl
She walks right past
With legs like totem poles
All carved up with muscle and lotion
Legs man
I would do anything to be those boots
Black leather that crawls up her eternity of skin

And I'm wondering...
Where the hell are the national geographic photographers
and why aren't the zoo keepers placing bids
Because this creature makes Helen of Troy look like
Athlete's foot.

And as I look across the street
I see a hundred guys with
dropped jaws and tilted necks

One man in his late seventies catches my eye
and we both start laughing
then we stop.
And then we start again

Because we know
that things will never change
And, of course, they never have.