The Replacement Mania

And who this week
in silk, in snap-latched doorways;
in, under, beside. How long
to get over each face, to credit
electricity to the brush
of knee on thigh, anklebones dusting,
calves nodding politely, skin meeting
skin, casual colleagues,
wet beneath the surface.

What form will it take,
the latest stumble stone - Roman
or snub? Swarthy or planed?
sweet, late, bicepped
like an action film survivor,
puny, a swine?

Who will suck, absorb,
spit me out, be spat. I thought
it might be this one
for good.

And yet, like a typist
resetting the page, I click
down a row, red out
another Monday
and nurse a confused hard-on,
waiting for a host body.

Any need apply.