The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

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

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Comments on: "An Ode to Old Guys at the Gym" (1)

  1. I know just what you mean.
    All that low hanging scrotum really should be covered…

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