Bare-ly Dreaming

I am not wearing pants.
So deep am I in my dream, that it really does seem
I’m seriously lacking in pants.

The pants that I am sans,
why am I without ’em, in some public emporium
earning from patrons not even a glance?

Keep everyone’s eyes on my head,
That it! If I just keep walking, and normally talking
they won’t notice my bare ass instead.

Well, this plan isn’t working
With abnormal stride, arms swinging too wide
from side to side I am jerking

Yet though I Homerically trudge,
a la La Brea’s mammoths, no pants-less Pilgrim progresses
through some invisible, irresistible sludge.

No unworn pants in my sight,
The landscape in trousers is slack. Cords, chinos, even pajamas it lacks,
and the Mall will soon close for the night.

I have one chance, no more.
I crawl on my knees, see, it makes travel more easy,
and approach the nearest pants store.

But once I sneak within
I realized, no surprise, there were no pants in my size
not even in the comfort-fit bins

Do you ever dream in kind,
where you flee circumstance with two too-small pair of  pants,
khakis in front, blue jeans held behind?

3 responses to this post.

  1. Nice. Each reader may dig out some bare moments from his/her past, recollect visuals, a memoir and enjoy reading this one again and again


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