I Dreamed I was an Onion
As I was preparing for a shower,
I felt I had to cope with unexpected spectators,
but not having a shame-complex about nudity,
that only spurred me swiftly on, thinking,
they'll melt away if they don't want to view my skin.
Removing coat, jacket, tops and trousers, I discovered
that I had two more of each to strip and then some:
An extra vest, thin Fagin gloves, cravat,
and down below beneath the tights, the shorts, the briefs,
yet more to peel; slippers, socks and ankle warmers
and arm stockings! Whoever thought of such a thing?
At last, with finger puppets off, I was there, I was bare,
like the centre of an onion – can you imagine – ?
Weeping, in my dream, in front of all those people,
because the shower did not work.
If you have any thoughts about this poem, Clive Donovan
would be pleased to hear them