The Tailgate
© By Grady L. Duncan

We’ve come a long way folks,
since I was just a mere lad.
Some changes were unwelcome,
but others have make me glad.

Remember that lidded pot,
that was kept under each bed?
I always called it the “Thunder Jug”.
no matter what others said.

Although it was a detestable thing,
a noble purpose, it did service,
if nature’s call came in the night,
and an outhouse trip took some nerve.

Then there were woolen underwear,
we called, “Long Johns”, or “BVD’s”,
that left us itching all over,
like a dog infested with fleas.

They had a flap in the back,
that we called our tailgate.
Since it was held closed with buttons,
it was hard for me to negotiate.

I often ran to my mother,
with my rear end all exposed.
It had to be buttoned up,
so I could put on my other clothes.

They often serviced as pajamas,
and that worked out very well,
If only they didn’t hang open,
exposing my little rosy tail.

That’s when the puppy had fun,
playing a game of “Tug A War”,
as I ran to mother again,
dragging him across the floor.

Yes! I’m glad they are gone;
that plague to all mankind;
and gone too is the “Tailgate”,
that displayed to the world, MY BEHIND!

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