Naked Old Man Speed-Walks to Get
Kitchen Counter Between Him and Window
On days off I wake up as late as I can
and wander into the kitchen bare-assed naked.
There’s a big round window there,
and outside maybe neighbors
to be scandalized. We had
a tree in front of it. The tree got sick
of seeing me, got removed,
so, tired of telling me to put on pants,
my wife sprayed decorative “snow” stuff
on the lower part of the window
(after all, a rectangular shade looks stupid
over a circular window),
then told me to walk back and forth
in front of the window (with weenie wagging)
while she went out to the front yard
to see what could be seen.
Not much could be seen (but there’s
not much to be seen, you’ve seen it all
before folks, hell, half of you have one).
“But won’t fake snowflakes look odd
when summer comes?” “We’ll think
of something else by then.” I guess
I could wear pants, but I keep expecting
to go right back to bed (and almost never do—
so much to do, so few days off, naked
man eats eggs, naked man washes dishes,
sits down at computer, crosses his legs,
lounging at the TV…).
Maybe we can PAINT pants on my bare
bottom. People would be confused enough
to see what they WANT to see.
By next summer I’ll be 70, and no one
wants to see a naked old man,
though my naked old woman
is kind enough not to tell me.
by Dean Blehert
copyright (c) 2011. All Rights Reserved