I wonder if Elvis ever got tired of his leather pants-
of the way his hips swayed
and seemed to say,
touch first, baby, ask later.
Did he ever find the wandering hands of hungry spectators
exhausting,
or sad?
Did Marilyn Monroe ever regret her flapping dress-
the billows of white fabric waving cheekily
at any man who watched?
Did she ever want to climb down from her pedestal?
shrug off her enchanted girdle
in favor of more common rags?
If they could see us now,
would they laugh at our obsessions?
Or would they warn us-
be plain,
stay human.