with my t-shirt off, i'm not baking my skin,
or in need for it...
      i'm just setting the scene of my surroundings,
no t-shirt... bare chested... hairy...
    but it's so much wonderful than taking
3 hours to slobber on a beach,
      and aim at a sun-tan or skin cancer,
plus the over-crowding...
             what do i get? a memory of winter...
i'm starting to feel a tornado of wind
wrapping my skin with goosebumps...

a cape of wind... szlafrok wiatru

i feel sorry for the advert industry,
given the internet... the ability
to exercise the mute button,
a bit like in politics, the worth of a veto;
they really forgot the capacities
of internet usage... you just mute
and then, groove out to your favourite
song...
            a bit as entertaining as fiddling
with my belly-button...
sleeping with only a t-shirt on...
fiddling with the anatomy to get out
   a few cotton "uvulas".

still... t-shirt off... and sitting in the shadows...
you can't even imagine the wind wrapping
you in caresses...
    softer than gulping down an oyster...
i just end up feeling oozy...
            free.. fetish-bound... octopus nimble....
i admired these guys walking with their
   attires missing, t-shirts dangling, lodged in
trousers...      but all they wanted was an equal
sun-tan... me? i''m into the experience
   of may's shadow & wind;
                     the sun? the sun can *******.
i'm not about to start gymnastics
with a woman's ******, any time soon;
i wake up with a *****,
       because my bladder is pleading with me
to urinate.