There’s a scene (no more than a minute or two I suppose)Near the beginning of the otherwise unexceptionalTarzan’s Peril.It comes after some generic footageShot in Africa,(You know the sort of thing)Warriors, animals, la de da. Anyway,All of a suddenThere he is,Lex Barker,As sweet a Tarzan as ever shone fromThe silver screen,Bounding out of the foliage,Rhapsodic in his beauty,Smiling like the day,Aflame with his sunlight.And what does he do?As if exhausted by his own beauty,He falls by a mirroring brook andStares,Delighted by the reflection he sees;This jungle narcissus SubduedBy his own Loveliness. As we all are.But how did this scene get there,Within such pedestrian matter,This moment of raptSelf-awareness,This Tarzan loving himselfIn the too-clearWaters of a Hollywood jungle stream?Not even the scene-stealing Cheeta,Try as she might,Dares to disturb the surface of thisMomentarily reflective pool. Gay porn There’s a scene (no more than a minute or two I suppose)Near the beginning of the otherwise unexceptionalTarzan’s Peril.It comes after some generic footageShot in Africa,(You know the sort of thing)Warriors, animals, la de da. Anyway,All of a suddenThere he is,Lex Barker,As sweet a Tarzan as ever shone fromThe silver screen,Bounding out of the foliage,Rhapsodic in his beauty,Smiling like the day,Aflame with his sunlight.And what does he do?As if exhausted by his own beauty,He falls by a mirroring brook andStares,Delighted by the reflection he
