Skyward With Embarrassment

The face goes beetroot red,
skyward goes the eyes
when someone says.
“You flies are flying half-mast.”
That someone who says it
is always someone of the opposite sex.
It is never a nudge and a wink
from one of your friends
so you can hide yourself to do up your zip.
It has to be a member of the opposite sex.
They must stand outside the toilet
just waiting for someone to appear,
then in a voice that could be heard
across the Atlantic just so everyone can hear.
“Hey mister your flying half-mast.”
A quick glance,
face goes a beetroot red,
hands fumble for the zip
as big smiles come from all around
and the voice box is now long gone.
You shrink away to hide
until the beetroot red face
returns to normal again,
then continue on your way,
but stop and look around
as the voice box has caught another one
who looks skyward with embarrassment.

3 April 2010

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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