HANK & WOMEN. | By: Terry Collett | | Category: Short Story - Introspective Bookmark and Share


Hank’s mother lectured
Him on the objectification
Of women. Never objectify


Women as sexual objects,
She’d say emphasizing each
Word with a slap to the back


Of his head, (he hadn’t seen
Women as such up until then,
Being only ten), women, she


Added, her dark eyes boring
Into his, are not there for men
To paw over with their eyes


Or hands of any other part
Of their anatomy, poking Hank
In the chest. Yet, when he later


Considered her words, he recalled
That she and that Mrs Baldof were
Always leering over that Jack


Hynde, saying, look at those biceps,
Wouldn’t mind those arms about
Me, imagine those muscles rippling


Over you and they’d laugh and
Giggle like a couple of schoolgirls
Being tickled, and although his


Mother was dead now and his
Father brain drained in some
New York hospital ward, he did


Try not to objectify women as
Sexual objects, did try to see
Them just as human beings, but


It was pretty hard when a nice
Ass went by or a pairs of breasts,
Casually caught his eyes, going


Down the subway stairs for a train,
Bouncing there like punch bags
In a boxing gym or a slim figure


Came into view as he stood by
The window looking at the late
Afternoon sun, puffing a smoke,


Listening to jazz, a bottle of beer
In his hand, but he did try, and his
Mother’s words were still there,


The echo of them and the slap of
Flesh on flesh still vibrated inside
His head, despite the passing of time


With the clock’s tick-tock and him
Still turning his head and old eyes,
Watching a pretty woman going by,


In a tight fitting, breast hugging,
Ass clinging, short shock frock.


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