A Bicyclette

Cycling in the nude, I hear,

Across the Channel’s big, this year.

Just imagine you were there:

With sun on back and wind in hair

And cheeks on saddle, either side,

Down the boulevards you glide

Through the streets of Paris, France

With laissez-faire insouciance.

You see the sights, all day long,

And ring your bell: ding, dang, dong

Champs-Elysees, cross the Seine,

Past the Eiffel tower again,

Enjoying Gallic liberty

Until the French gendarmerie…

Lock you up.