—Nor should you,
insists the ad for British Airways. Yes,
an Englishman, like his brother the American,
Finn, Serbo-Croat, Tajik, Tutsi, Hutu and Bushman,
a man anywhere intent on collecting the finer things—
what daring and cash entitles him to—never
is far from a good book, a damn fine Scotch,
clothes that make him, leather boots, pith helmet
that screams adventure, and of course
a rapt, adoring woman, the youngest, thinnest
most flexible model available, who will stare
at him as if he were the Christ Himself
and open arms and heart, and mouth and legs
as far as she can, moaning to him Oh
my God! until he’s sated, unthrobbing, unerect
at last, needing only to turn over and begin
to snore as the giant bird on its way to lands
of further adventure soars and roars
through the grand, sparkling stars.