Entering the gym locker room and oh Lord, here we go,
An older gentleman, naked, who I unfortunately now “know”
Old guys in locker rooms, what’s the deal?
With aging muscles showing the strength of veal
While your confidence could be considered wonderful
It doesn’t go well with your breasts, which are plentiful
There seems to be a natural correlation
The less appealing, the longer you take to change without hint of humiliation
There is always the same set of three –
I call them the croissant club, because they’re doughy and pasty
What’s your purpose? What cause do you serve?
What evil have I done to make this what I deserve?
I set down my clothes and begin to change quickly
When a naked man carrying his towel sits next to me
Why, naked man, don’t you wear your towel?
Why can’t you notice my gag-reflex-slash-scowl?
Maybe it’s my WASP upbringing and I’m a prude
But your hairy body is making me come unglued
Taking care not to have my bare feet touch the floor
I keep my head straight and stare at my locker door
Finished, I make for the exit as quick as can be
Head bowed as though I’m praying dutifully
And again, I feel anger and sadness flow
As a naked man cuts me off … going … so … slow
Finally! I’m out the door and ready to work out!
…The images of the locker room croissant club hang about
In a flash (no pun intended), their anti-underwear-wearing purpose is clear
They’re here to motivate, to inspire, to frighten, all to get you in gear
So come on, inspirers and inspirees, let’s all head to the gym!
But I’m going to change at home so I won’t have to see any of them