(Naked as a) Jaybird

Some nights I forget to close my curtains
and my living room window
becomes a TV screen
for the punks in my hood.

I'm suited and I'm booted
in my office until five.
When I finally get home
I like to cast it all aside.
Let it all hang out, brother.

The neighbours pull up their deck chairs
so they can watch me at my chores,
doing my stuff whilst I'm in the buff,
letting the air get to my pores.
They sip gloopy soup from thermoses.
I sit and eat my tea.
My hot, voluptuous gorgeousness
is on display for all to see.

Sometimes, when I feel a little skittish,
I do my mating dance.
It's unedifying and un-British,
sans shirt, sans trews, sans pants.
It's guaranteed to get a laugh.
Some old bags murmur that it's shocking.
But the joke is on them ~

I'm wearing a peach-coloured body stocking!

B.R. 05/12/2014