The Tale of Tank Top Tim

15 11 2009

Was the summer of June in the year of 07
When the tale of Tank Top Tim was born
It could have happened anywhere in the world
Yet Las Vegas was the fitting scene for sure

By the waters of the Flamingo pools
The legend arose on one hot, desert day
He stood apart from the rest of the crowd
As he showed his physique in a special way

While others took care and lathered their skins
To give themselves a even, dark tan
He was one of the special, elite breed
Who decided to take the sun’s rays as a man

It must have happened the previous day
He thinking that the sun was not all that strong
Most likely he had too many 99 cent drinks
As he fell asleep in a chair way to long

When he awoke, he soon realized
It was way to late for him to stop
His skin had turned a red hot, pink shade
Except for where he had his tank top

But like a true soul, he was not deterred
And thought of another plan
Instead of wearing a shirt today
He’d wear none and thought that would even his tan

So there he stood on the side of the chlorine waters
Trying to look nonchalant and ever cool
As all the people looked in amazement
When they swam by him from the pool

I watched him for an hour or so
As he stood his ground that sunny day
Yet when I looked down for one brief moment
Turning back, he had vanished away

Searching the scene I could not find him
Anywhere or anyplace he could have been
I saw his friends Ricky Rock and the Pool Weaver
But alas, no sign of Tank Top Tim

To this day, I still think of him and ponder questions
Is he still by a pool in Las Vegas land?
What ever happened to Tank Top Tim?
And did he ever even out his tan?

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