Swimming mammals on my crotch,
Their blowholes squirt aqua and they smile like goldfish.
They are whales,
The whales on my underpants.
Now I’ve long since grown out of that style,
Since I’ve gotten rid of all the underpants with flowers and penguins and frogs and hearts,
Many weeks ago.
Now I wear, well, that’s just too personal,
But if you’re curious you can ask Scout or Danae or Ji-hye or Aisha,
Just keep it on the dee-low.
One wonders why this particular pair
Of special underwear
Remains so special in my heart.
Blue things I like a lot,
Their calming effect on the mind and the eyes is like an ocean.
They see the past,
The past coming from my underpants.
These things make me smile every time I put them on,
They still sit in my drawer all cute an’ adorable an’ smiley an’ whaley,
Every time I see them.
I flashed my friend in 7th grade with them,
And we went around asking every teacher, “Do you like whales, do you do you do you?”
Said yes, all of them.
It remained an obsession
Counteracts my depression
My whale underpants.
Do you remember being a child,
Full of innocence and purity like a whale
The gentle giants whisper
The gentle giants on my underpants.
The parental grasp on the memory
Follows me through my travels on the road and the life and the age.
Forever it will stay.
I keep a strong hold on the bar of youth,
As my body weighs me down while I pull and push and strain.
It will never go away.
Laugh at the stupid stuff,
And I can never get enough
Of my whale underpants.
I can still be immature
Because I am captured by the allure
Of the children that represents
My pair of whale underpants.
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