Hefner’s Plot

For all our speculative philosophies
mutterings on life, death, mortality
the universal age
what it means to a dead species
when its star fades
and the light from it
five million years hence
evaporates like a dew drop
before an unimpressed
alien astronomer’s eye… for all that
I leave it to better minds to contemplate
ones undeveloped, never to be
drying up on the white expanse
of a hostile Kleenex
a few million lives
an easy genocide of the self
across pop culture pages
from skirts billowing
by displaced subway air
to a flesh and blood sex doll
arranged just so on red satin
from Joe DiMaggio’s jealousy
to middle aged masturbators in their garages
the real corridor of memories
is a fist around a roll of quarters
or a cock, flipped out
three pages wide
skin enough to gift wrap the world
a token of our appreciation
to an unappreciative E.T.’s sight
unaware of his historical vision
all these stars, all these stories
Marilyn’s
Hefner’s
in time
the years between their deaths
will be as the inches between their graves
between her thighs
where powers once engorged
soon withered and withdrew
ceding that ground and themselves
to Earth

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