Men’s clothes behave better 
on the body.  Slouching over 
shoulders, creating caverns 
of comfort for knees, hips 
and breasts. You never see 
a man and stop to think 

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, honey 
You can’t be comfortable. 

Women on the contrary, 
swim like snake-fish in 
wriggling skins of cotton, 
cashmere, ciffon, brocade. 
Conforming the body to 
contortions unimiginable 
to the human spleen. 

Sometimes I like to try on 
pairs and take note of
daily task-lists 
that could be achieved 
without risking explosion. 

Blue shorts: grocery shopping, 
petting my dog, slight bend at 
the hips if I were to drop a pen, 
afternoon nap. 

Leggings: basically like wearing 
my own skin on top of itself, 
can eat whatever I want, 
people will more than likely 
see my underwear.  

Jeans: will hold my cell phone
in the butt pocket, look business
casual (if dark), feel great  
taking them off, coming home.