9/14
Sonnets From Other Lives: Rick

You're absolutely right. I am a leech.
It's my job to make your life a living hell.
But then I'm only here because you've reached
the apex. You're a brand--a thing that sells.
When magazines print only your first name
the consumer  knows that they refer you,
and covets false proximity to fame
by knowing all there is to know of you.
Then my telephoto shoots your cellulite.
My flash intrudes on your illicit meal.
I expose your face sans make-up because I
despise the arrogance of the unreal.
We rain lucre on you to be fabulous,
but you're just a gilded version of the rest of us.