Dear Mr. Saggy Pants
Now if you knew me well you would know,
I would watch anything but a fashion show.
I am definitely not at all into Haute Couture,
I never could understand the great allure.
I never subscribed to Vogue, Fashion, or Elle.
Nor to Marie Claire, InStyle, and Mademoiselle.
And although you might find it rather bizarre,
You'd never catch me reading Harper's Bazaar.
So when it comes to the latest fashion trends,
You are better off asking some of my friends.
And maybe if I had myself some deeper pockets,
I would shop in places other than marts and outlets.
But as it stands, my greatest shopping accomplishment,
Is finding clothes I can wear on sale or on consignment.
Yet even I, with my limited knowledge and sense of fashion,
Cannot offer guys with saggy pants any form of compassion.
To me, seeing their underwear high above their pants waist,
Is not a sign of revolution and free expression; just bad taste.
And although it started in prison and was first worn by some Rapper,
Trust me guys you look far from cool, fly, phat, badass, or dapper.
So come on, do yourself and your sweet honey a big huge favor,
Pull up them pants, tighten that belt, and hide your underwear for later.
(c) 2013 copyright Elena Plotkin
Comments about this poem (Dear Mr. Saggy Pants by Elena Plotkin )
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