New Blacks

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.