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Click herewere the colour of a New York cab in July
with giant red and white paisleys.
Not the cab,
my underwear.
I can’t say where I lost them
but since you’re a bachelor
in a one bedroom
basement apartment
chances are
they turned up the next day
shining their little sunshiney
paisleys at you
from under the one chair
or balled up in the sheets
at the end of your single bed.
Did you throw them out?
Did you smile as you did it,
or cringe at touching my dainties
(although you weren’t cringing last night)?
I said it was okay
that I could go commando home
and I did.
Stiff upper lip, ten and two hands
on the wheel, driving soberly, driving the line,
wondering if you were the one
that would discover
my underwear
or would they be found by
the next yellow cab.
Effortlessly constructed, weighing humour and pathos. Loved it, loved it.
F
You need a good sense of humour and balance to make love in a single bed
Your poem has been recommended in the New Poems Review thread on the Poetry Feedback and Discussion forum. Thank you for the read.
Beyond the humor and wearing your volunrability on your sleeve which I liked, it was also interesting to note that the age old motive: 'had I been objectified' as awoman is still strong and compelling question, no matter how hip and agressive you may be...