New Blacks
Do you shop Goodwill
and get depressed?
In the fitting room
you get undressed.
It happened every
single time,
so much, I say
It needs a rhyme.
I’ve had enough,
this misery,
the things I like
too small for me.
It’s time to change
the shape I’m in.
I am not big,
no where near thin.
It’s diet time!
I dump the sweets,
grab ham and cheese
when I need treats.
I did this for
a month until,
my starburst raving,
became still.
The diet’s done,
my skin it sags.
My black pants look
like black trash bags.
My work shirt comes,
untucked a lot.
My bellys in
a different spot.
I head to the
goodwill to find,
new blacks to fit
my new behind.
I need work pants,
I’ll pull size eight.
Oh glory be!
they fit just great!
My eyes? they play
a trick on me?
Could this be an eight,
this blur I see?
So I go back
squint at the rack.
a pile of pants,
I will attack.
Oh, it is true,
oh me oh my!
e-ven a random
six I try.
Oh I can’t wait
to wear some blacks,
that aren’t old lady
high waisted slacks.
All my young kids,
will look at me
and say" hey dude,
what do we see?"
"Is that high waisted
Jilly Bean?
In the coolest blacks
we’ve ever seen?"
I still can’t see
or think too fast,
but old lady pants
are a thing of the past.
