Wednesday, October 12, 2011
There must be meaning under there. Under where? Exactly.
3000 pieces of underwear
line the highway, on road side rocks,
clinging to trees, crying out in protest
for all to see---
what?!? I fail to understand
what message is scrawled
in the base of your skivvies?
The new ones, still bare tags, is this
statement of greed, so much for just a patch
of cloth to make you feel pretty
And what of the old, worn thin with wind,
do they remember better days
are they tired of taking all your---
morning commute traffic spills
by in long lines & unforced chuckles
cross lips, some honk for thong spinnakers,
re-moved and bagged by cops as evidence
of your fifteen minutes of fame stretched
to hours of wasted time, surely
you will garner a tweet or two.
Leaving us confused as to what
Victoria's secret really was, and was
it really worth it to know.
Under the over pass near my house
an angel looms in prophecy, "Turn or burn"
so I put my blinker on, but only because
I near my drive way &
have a sudden compulsion
to do laundry.
True story. Three thousand pieces of underwear showed up along a mile stretch through town, on rocks and in trees. Police are still baffled, as are anyone other than the perpetrators of this great mystery. I am sure someone will some day get to the bottom of this. Smiles.
Linking with Imperfect Prose.