How Funny the Indignity of Sex

How funny, the indignity of sex
How sad, though, it cannot be like the films
The monuments that passion play erects
Seem ludicrous when rest or daylight calms.
And there's disease, and babies, and the pain
To think of, when engaging in the act
And paraphernalia, to safeguard and restrain,
That must be introduced with charm and tact --
Impossible. And seldom as much fun
The truth be told, as one can have alone
And yet the words are said, the risks are run
To prove we're young, or pretty, or wild, or grown
Yet there's an ache, when whirl and movement come:
The wish to be in love. Or to be numb.