Resist this – cold, concrete ground beneath your feet.
The clickety clack, clickety clack
resound through city streets.
You – are the bought and sold,
led to wander endlessly around,
peering in shop windows for a glimpse of yourself.
Forever looking for the perfect dress
with perfect pleats, the perfect breasts,
the perfect teeth;
pristine on first impression, but neither real, nor unique.
This sense of pure perfection
is mere pretension that you seek,
it is empty and oblique.
As you search in hurried silence
you will be ad infinitum,
always one item
out of reach.
Photograph by Thomas LeuthardHire An Editor