Long blonde girl smiles at me
Adjusts her head, moves a hand
Subtly alters her body‘s pose
All at my considered command.
What, I wonder does she think
Of all those people just like me
Who stand and direct her life
So engrossed perhaps they never see
Beyond the body, the image captured
Daily by the tens and dozens
From behind those lying camera's
Clicking shutters and whirring lens.
She stares at me from posters,
From magazines, my TV screen
Perhaps making hers the most
Public body, so often is it seen.
It seems to me so much these days
Open the page and she is there:
She sells chocolate she sells clothes
Products for the face and hair.
So beautifully dressed and groomed
Such a source to inflame desire,
Even through her photograph able
To set many a man on fire.
She moves her body,
Moves her feet,
Professionally to me
Another piece of meat.
I do not see her as a person.
I just make no attempt.
Perhaps, for that she is grateful
Perhaps regards me with contempt.
The shoot is finished.
I put my camera away,
Never even see her now,
Just another working day.
Long blonde girl smiles out.
Conjures for all a world of fantasy.
Worshipped and adored by many
But is the woman ever really free;
Or does the cruel camera's lens
Keep our long blonde girl in thrall
The price she pays for her fame
To be object of desires for one and all.
