The nudists are a funny lot
To go about without a stitch.
The gender question leaves no doubt
‘Cause it is easy to tell which.

Their thoughts concerning wearing clothes,
To others must seem somewhat queer.
They always have on ‘wash ‘n wear’
Their favorite color must be clear.

Details on their driver’s license,
When age and weight to us seem rude,
For nudists, don’t you just wonder
What other things they might include?

One big advantage that they have
That always has seemed quite unfair,
A nudist’s wife could never say,
“I haven’t got a thing to wear.”

In time I might learn to ignore
The others’ sneers and gawky stares.
The thought that keeps me wearing clothes,
Is sticking to those plastic chairs!

That leads me to another point
On which I have had cause to mull.
I think that their costume parties
Must really be a little dull.

The ladies’ choice could only be
Lady Godiva, I suppose,
And all the men would have to go
As that dumb king who had new clothes.

But when at last all of these thoughts,
Into one’s account are taken,
One thing would make me most nervous,
Just the thought of frying bacon.

When I first started writing poetry, I was desperate to get some of my poems published. I would try anything. Thumbing through The Poets’ Market I noticed that a nudist magazine was looking for nudist oriented poetry.

I set right down and wrote Nudists. I figured that I would be competing in a limited market against a limited number of poets. I got back a not too nice letter accusing me of making light of them proving that nudists have no sense of humor. I was told that it was easy for them to see that I was not one of them. You might say that they exposed me.


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