The Old Floridian Non-Conformist
The young prize individuality
And choose to feature navels and tattoos,
But that, I think, becomes conformity
When choices made are what a million choose.
So I’m the non-conformist, I assert,
For I’m the one who shuns the current fad
As I go forth each day in flowered shirt,
White shoes and belt, black socks and pants of plaid.
Conforming souls can never understand
That going posted speeds is just my style,
And also give me finger reprimands
For signaling left turns for fifteen miles.
For sake of health I do consume some pills
But not for kicks, as well as I remember,
And inasmuch as I can’t suffer chills,
I don my scarf and ear muffs in September.
You like your happy hour and dine quite late,
But I skip booze for early bird at three,
And then once home I take my liquor straight —
A little NyQuil for debauchery.