When growing up, I never had
The feeling that I was a finicky *****,
And even though it wasn't a custom
For us to parade around in the ****,

My easygoing Midwestern parents
Never felt that it would befoul
Our minds if after bathing they
Returned to their bedroom wrapped in a towel.

I learned, however, that some people were
In many respects less modest than others.
For instance, my friend's mother's behavior
Was very different from my mother's.

We'd be playing--my friend and I--
When all of a sudden his mom would prance
Into his room not wearing a thing,
Almost as though she was doing a dance.

It was…different, but not for me
A reason for laughing, fleeing, or fainting.
I was used to seeing scores
Of nudes in many a Renaissance painting.

Unfazed, my friend and I continued
To do whatever we were playing
As though we had merely witnessed his mom
Vacuuming, baking pies, or crocheting.

We humans are the only mammals
That stifle our belches, excuse our farts,
And feel that it's very necessary
To cover up our private parts--

Unless you are a nudist, of course.
That, we know, is a different matter.
So, birthday suit or covered body?
I think I will stick with the latter.

I have been to **** beaches
Both in the States and overseas.
Instead of feeling liberated,
I felt a little bit ill at ease.

I do not find ******
Offensive at all, so please take note:
If that's your thing, then be my guest
And do whatever floats your boat.

If "clothes make the man," as the saying goes,
****** levels the playing field.
But I feel more relaxed if certain
Body parts remain concealed.

-by Bob B (5-20-24)