“Thou seyst, som folk desiren us for richesse,
Somme for oure shape, and somme for oure fairnesse.”
- Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales

When we tell stories of sleeping virginal princesses,
flesh leaking from their bosoms
behind shells of double-paned glass,
who can be surprised that Tom likes to take a peep now and then?

When we read narratives about carnal desire
cast under avian cloak,
why wouldn’t young Louisa have a thing for men in bird costume?

When double entendres
rain from the sky
like lemon drops in naïve daydreams

and when we chisel like Pygmalion
our minds and bodies,
sculpting young stones
into bodacious Jezebels,
what’s wrong if Janet wants to lose a couple pounds by changing her mind about lunch
ex post facto?