Pants.

The clothing

Happy Leap Year!

I like to leap in pants.

The Pants

These khakis and I have a relationship that began
when the dopamine and serotonin levels elevated

when the skin of my bare legs touched the soft interior
side of the fabric in the clothing store changing room.

After a wash and at least 48 hours of wear,
of constant contact, we were joined at the hip,

Over time, the fit improved. I could do yoga in the pants. I moved in the pants. 
Everyday, in the pants. The pants to experience my experiences in.

The shoes I bought were for the pants. The shirts I bought were for the pants. 
I had a hat that worked with the pants. So I started wearing it.

I ate at the restaurant in the pants, greasy meat dripped and 
left its mark, a silhouette there no matter how hard I scrub.

And now the pants are stained. 
I can still wear them. 

I can wear a long coat with the pants. I can sit behind a desk with the pants.
I can attend a day-long meeting through the Internet with the pants.

I probably should not attend social events where I will 
need to stand and shake hands with new people with the pants,

at least, not where the lighting is good. But I can 
meditate with the pants and eat brownies with the pants.

There are so many things that I can do with the pants
that are hanging on the hook in the closet.

In wordy wordiness,

Walter