SHORT PANTS November 21, 2008
Posted by nebuchadnezzar in Bad Poetry, Essaytch.Tags: Bad Days, Bad Poetry, laundry, Short Pants
add a comment
(from Wednesday, November 19, 2008)
Wardrobe, thy name is traitor!
Dryer, how dare you?!
After all this time together,
The memories we’ve shared…
The good times, and the bad.
They were my rock, my refuge:
The two things that could keep me
Comfortable in both casuality and formality.
And you’ve RUINED them!
Ruined what we had, what we shared.
The connection broken, left short…
Quite literally.
And now, with cold ankles and self-consciousness
I sit, waiting for someone to notice
My Short Pants.
-Essaytch
A Year of Bad Poetry 