T.V. Watcher

Soft in her chair she sees the visions bloomAnd needs no prince to wake her drowsy flesh.Soft on her screen she sees the patterns meshOf rugged males whose scowling passions loomWith two-gunned violence in her living-room.Oh, how she loves them, aches to share their throes,Her feelings sharp and variable as thoseWho move in monochrome a switch can doom.

She will not flick it off for flesh and blood.Where can she give so little, gain so much,Be heroic without risk, diet without food,Adventure safely in the bleak outdoors,Have lovely children without household chores,And thrill to love untarnished by a touch?