The Best Laid Pants

His is this gabardine expanse
because he owns too many pants;
there is some polyester, too,
along with many jeans of blue.

They hang in closets by the cuff
and rest assured he has enough;
it goes beyond enough for sure--
his slack expanse may well endure.

Haggars and Dockers, St. John’s Bay,
black and navy, light green and gray;
essentially it’s pants express
because of overall excess.

He did one time have overalls
that hung on hooks on closet walls;
but this was just one “pants and more”
compared to breeches by the score.

And it should be of no surprise
that he has pants of varied size;
there’s different break on shoe all right,
along with pants just way too tight.
 
Within his basement once he showed
this part that was a pants' abode;
he had these boxes shelved up high
full of slacks from years gone by.

  (Too many pants are hiding underground,
  too many pants are lying in the box;
  there are way too many pants all around,
  and some are folded neatly with his socks.

He told me once he gave Goodwill
a bunch of pants against his will;
yet he had to because of dreams
of cruel zippers and bad inseams.

  (Too many trousers living everywhere,
  and there are those that still retain the tag;
  he need not go too far to grab a pair--
  collecting pants just seems to be his bag.)

Around his home with just a glance
it’s clear he has too many pants.
He often vows to cut the stack,
yet so far promises are slack.



[Rhythm: 8 and 10]  (Lines: 40)
Writer’s Cramp; December 6, 2011