Apparel,
they tell us in grade school
we must wear it, ’cause to doff it is not cool.
I sit there naked and ask, “Why?
Sans sweaty undies, I keep my sack dry.”
Snarling, the teacher says to me, “Buddy,
get your pants on, so
we cannot see the
thing hanging down low!”
That teacher’s deemed me to be an upstart.
A pun could then ensue
I’m careful at that point not to
a verbal gaffe do.
Or else after school
I’ll have to stay. So I won’t cry
out a sleazy, nasty wordplay reply.

Snarling, teacher gets for me some cover
It’s her large raincoat—
now I’m in mufti.
I look like a boat
with slacked sail, waiting for the wind to start.
Then what else can I do
in fashion like muumuu?
I’m flashin’ the class, the teacher too.