Archive
08/26/08 - (1)
Breaking Out
Then, one all-too-normal Tuesday a.m., Just like that, He made a rash snap decision to leave his house, Buck, stark, jaybird, as-the-day-he-was-born naked, Undressed, to the nines, from head to head to toe, Not because he intended to make a fashion statement But, now, considered himself a clothing-optionalist.
Quite simply, unambiguously, unqualifiedly, He was totally fed up with feeling fettered, constrained. Over thirty-five years of strict rigidity, Conforming to codes of conduct and custom, He'd developed a silent but festering penchant for anomie, Which, when it finally gestated, Broke out of his raiment, like a three-foot Guinea worm,
Manifesting itself in the form of an uncontainable desire To go au naturel, in the birthday-suit raw, in public. That morning, he left his house, headed for the bus stop, Boarded, stepped off, three blocks from his job, Wearing not a stitch, save for his brown lunch bag, Dangling, from his right hand, Flopping, in time, with his wagging penis.
That his appearance had raised no brows, Not any, so far as he had observed, Came as no surprise, really. After all, he was, in every respect he could reckon, Precisely the same person he'd always been, With the one slight exception That he had absolutely nothing to hide from himself.
This feeling of complete openness was reassuring. Being nude reminded him of his fundamental humanity, Allowed him to appreciate his sense of individuality, In a whole new light, gave him renewed confidence That he could do anything anyone might ask of him. Arriving home, he got dressed, ate, climbed into bed. Wednesday, he left nakeder. He'd shaved his pubic hair.
08/26/08 - (1)
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