A POEM - WEIRD SATISFACTION FROM THE SEAT OF YOUR SHORTS

WEIRD SATISFACTION FROM SEAT OF YOUR SHORTS
I’d be sitting there,
In my hotel room,
Just in my boxers.
It was a habit of mine,
That when I was inside
My own room,
I always stripped down
To my boxers.
At first it had weirded out
My college room mate,
But he’d grown used to it,
When I’d walk into the room,
Blizzard roaring outside,
And strip down to my boxers,
And sit at the computer
Or lie in bed and read a book.
But nowadays,
While sitting around,
I’ll sometimes notice
That the boxers I’m wearing
Are ripping at the seems,
Or have big tears in them,
Or are just plain thread worn,
To the point of uselessness.
And when I see this,
I’ll smile and think to myself,
Trying to recall when
I bought them,
Some time long ago,
“now that’s getting my money’s worth.”