A man named Sylvia

Suit and tie with briefcase to match
Walking through crowded streets
It’s his full time daily occupation
Selling insurance to all the gullibles that he meets
But when evening comes a calling
A transformation starts to take place
He sheds his expected masculine chains
And applies fresh makeup to his long and chiselled face
His hair becomes long and curly
The sequinned dress squeezes over his head
A man named Sylvia has awoken
As it has done since the day he wed
Down at the curious disco
Where the people are who they’re meant to be
Sylvia sings like Shirley Bassey
All high pitched in a drag act key
The odd little flirting in the corner
A little peck from the naughty old queens
She glides through the crowd like royalty
A showgirl with no ends and no means
Then it’s back home to the wife
A marriage of convenience free of stresses
No strings, no children or awkward words
Just Sylvia, suits and ties and dresses 

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