’rrayed belles fling
duds, undressin’.
There’s no way. . .
learned my lesson.
A boobiful sight;
those mams/ma’ams look alright!
Watchin’ in a window, though it’s banned.

Gawk away at a nude “bird”;
command “Nay!” an eschewed word.
It lifts, my love prong;
what I do is wrong:
gawkin’ in a window, though it’s banned.

When the threads go, I am thrilled—a show fan;
at least I am not some arson clown.
Away I get carried, and my og’ plan
is do a viewing job all over town.

Later on, they retire. . .
gets me steamed, fired with ire.
Next day, an ingrate
until it gets late. . .
Watchin’ in a window, though it’s banned.

Then the threads go, I am thrilled and grow span;
place to place I roam—my circuit ’round,
hoping that I do not hear a “No, man!”
from a cop who has a beat to pound.

When tits show, I ain’t chilling!—
caverno-sum is filling.
I ogle away, then hear a voice say:
“Caught ya!”
In a windowless cell crammed.