Some midday poetry

The drip and dribble of midday urination

Are punctuated by a sudden discovery:

The tag in my thong

Says MADE IN BANGLADESH.

As I sit and I stare

At the tiny white ribbon,

Marked with an "S"

(Skeptics, tread lightly)

Drips and dribbles become the whirring of needles

Sewing and surging.

A girl,

Much and not at all like me,

Holds my underwear,

Her callussed hands caressing

Cotton and polyester blends.

As she connects my g string

To the triangular bit of fabric that holds

My fleshy flower.

I can almost mistake the ammonia aroma rising from the water

For sweet patchouli;
Can almost see her in my minds eye,

Dangling the thong from a graceful brown finger,

A dark eyebrow raised 

at what she can only dubiously call

"almost underwear."

 

-3/9/09