Where to now Hugh?
The centerpiece who masterminded
The centerfold and made a woman’s body
A rightful of a pilgrim’s tabernacle.
A man who had scant respect
For the fig leaf and made rabbit ears
A cynosure. In this Californication
You helped boys to grow up to be men,
Dancing to the spiking hormones.
You made memories in the bedroom,
Over the sink, in La La land, in night dreams
And anywhere seclusion was found. I hope you go
To a better place now, to where
You will be seen as a hero
Who made the feminine body, a language;
Exposure, an exhibit; apples into giant lemons;
And a little leaf of fig, an extinction.
And in this carnage of bodies, I’m just as bemused at how
The prelude could sell more than the fugue
The aperitif more than the meal
And in this skill, of capturing naked beauty
In everyday happenings, you took
Every angle to near and newer places, we hadn’t seen before.
You were always the master of the post-pubescent boy
The thrill of the 20 something,
The secret glance of the married man
And the woman’s guilty pleasure.
How little it took, to make a difference….
How beautiful is it, to know that most boys
Lost their cherry to a centerfold
To those fine curves on center display.
Godspeed, you giant of a man.
Only you and God could have made
The naked woman, a showpiece
In augmented reality, a treasure
You find in a well-lit room,
In that lusted premonition, of how
Some ripened fruits can glow,
Under light, far out of reach of the common
Man’s palms or his lips, and yet be,
Very much in reach of his blooming pupils.
The woman’s body was always a temple.
You made her sacrilege, everything else but a sin.