Top Down

Take your top down,
Expose yourself to the sun.
Raise your arms to the sky,
Time to have some fun.

Let them see,
Those headlights.
Flash them with,
Your high-beam brights.

Feel that breeze,
Through your hair.
As passers-by,
Begin to stare.

Let your top drop,
For all to see.
Show us how,
To “Let It Be.”

Take it all off,
Bare your soul.
Let the Good Times,
Rock and Roll!

It’s why you own,
A rag-top car.
So you can cruise,
Like a Hollywood star.

Or were your thoughts,
Of wild girls?
Wearing nothing,
But a string of pearls.

Topless fantasies,
Got that itch?
Lower the roof,
Hit that switch.

Get a Convertible,
Drop your top, too.
But don’t drive naked,
Whatever you do!

Copyright 2020 johnstonwrites.com

I’ve purposely put the explanation for this poem at the end since it was designed to portray a double meaning. I put it in my category of poems with questionable taste. Were you thinking of a car or perhaps an afternoon at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and seeing a sign that reads, “Show Us Your T**s?” Did your mind go in the gutter or did did the phrase “take your top down” immediately make you think convertible?

Obviously, my mind was on other things when I penned this little ditty. I found it in my file of unfinished projects that probably had its start years ago when I actually had some testosterone flowing through my veins. We don’t get to put the top down much here in rainy Portland on either of our convertibles, so maybe this was a project I began seven years ago when we were living in sunny Austin, Texas? I can’t wait until the next time I can take my top down!