RATIONALIZATION by Jayne Leitch
C. 2003
I'm of the opinion I ought to be greatly
perturbed by the indecent thoughts I've had lately.
It's not their existence that bothers me so--
licentious reflection is normal, I know--
but rather, the number of thoughts. It's quite grand,
and makes me suspect things've got out of hand.
Take, for example, the thrill in my marrow
brought on by the swish of piratical Sparrow;
a common response, and nothing to pity--
for many find Sparrow uncommonly pretty--
but my fascination extends beyond Disney
to prurient thoughts about scoundrels less flimsy.
What of the scandalous notions that bloom
when pondering Lansing in his Panic Room?
It might be Ric's stubble, or maybe Rick's skill,
but all I know is, that guy renders a thrill.
And then there's the fact that I just have to smile
when, in *The Pretender*, the generous Lyle
handcuffs his captive as if to display
Jarod's arms, chest and shoulders, and long legs outsplayed.
Bodies in bondage and unbalanced minds:
surely somewhere this stuff's thought unrefined!
And yet there's still more, for any who dare
to play Sigmund Freud with my mental affairs:
like Will, who spent months being brainwashed and tricked
but looks awfully good in the midst of conflict;
and Luka, in sweaty, intense concentration,
just has to blink to incur ovulation.
(At least my subconscious is spared by the CLex:
it's hard to be coy when your name rhymes with sex.)
Of these thoughts and others I cannot be rid.
The blame for them all, then, I'll place on my id,
as there's no use in getting judgemental and haughty
simply because my libido's been naughty!
End.
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