Okay, so tonight I passed another pair of inside out jeans lying on the ground. Of course this happens all the time, but for some reason tonight I was inspired to extemporize this modest bit of prosody:
Inside Out Jeans Lying on the Ground
by David Kirtley
Inside out jeans, lying on the ground
I look in all directions, but there’s no one around
You’re not the first pair of inside out jeans to cross my path
And as with all the others, I can’t help but ask:
What on earth could possibly be the reason
For someone this damp parking lot with their inside out jeans to season?
If inside out jeans could speak, what stories would they tell?
I do not think they will speak to me
Was it the result of some well-orchestrated carnal scheme, or was it random
For someone this pair of inside out jeans to so wildly abandon?
The mind boggles, and I just really don’t see
Why these sorts of bacchanalian, couture-shedding jaunts never seem to happen to me
Only one thing to do! Drop trou, and skedaddle home
It just wouldn’t be right to leave this pair of inside out jeans lying inside out alone
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