Thirsty Boots

 

So I took off my thirsty boots

     and my knackered hat,

          my greasy gloves,

               my dastardly coat,

                    my peevish trousers

                         with their bastard's belt,

                              my flirty shirt

                                   and my voluptuous vest,

                                        laying bare hectares of man breast.

                                             I removed my sordid socks

                                                  and, last but not least,

                                                       I took off my vintage pants

                                                            (also known as pantiques).

 

                                                                      Then came the dreaded sound,

                                                                           the inevitable pounding at the door.

                                                                               I looked in despair

                                                                                   at my clothes on the floor.

                                                                               

                                                                                            B.R. 31/08/2013