I'LL KEEP YOUR CLOTHES

At first when we were dating
You would bring a rose
And as a ritual of mating
Leave behind some clothes

It seemed a cute formality
it put me in love's throws
It had a wondrous quality
"Yeah!  I'll keep your clothes."

You'd leave sexy underwear
The type that made you strut and pose
You'd toss them in my corner chair
I teased, "I'll keep your clothes"

Then there came some rainy washes
and some days of heavy snows
You'd leave raincoats and galoshes
I said, "Sure.  I'll keep your clothes"

Add T-shirts with a beer slogan
or an alien head that glows
or a samurai from Shogun
I said, "OK...I'll keep your clothes"

I left you little notes
"Hey, my closet overflows"
"I've boxed up all my coats!"
But, still, I keep your clothes

One day you showed up with a wagon
And a couple of cheap ho's
You said, "Baby, I'm baggin'"
I said, "Oh, yeah?  I'll keep your 
clothes"

You really blew your stack
You said, "Hey!  This really blows!
What are you?  On crack?"
I just said, "I'll keep your clothes"

You cried, "What am I to wear?"
I said, "Who cares?  Who knows?
You've been a sorry ass affair.
At least I'll keep your clothes"

The underwear so fine
I'll hold for other joes
The jeans that are now mine
They'll fit.  I'll keep your clothes.

The shirts that look like bags
The socks with ripped up toes
I'll use them up as rags
What fun to keep your clothes!

So, be nice to your ex-girlfriends
Watch where you put your nose
And be kind when the love ends
Or else, we'll keep your clothes

From the book:  THE LOVE POEMS OF THE 
FEMINIST FROM THE DARKSIDE by Fembah
Copyright 2000

There once was a woman from France,
Who did an unusual dance.
She'd roll in the grass,
And lick her own ass,
Her sex would put men in a trance.

A virile young man of Touraine 
               Had vesicles no one could drain. 
                    With an unbroken flow 
                    Thrice the course he would go, 
               Then roll over and start in again. 

A man loved a gal named Bundy
Who came from the Bay of Fundy.
But to his despair,
She gave him the air
Sic transit gloria mundi. 

An opera singer named Black 
            Would fuck anything with a crack: 
                Sidewalks and board fences, 
                Young goats and cheese blintzes, 
            And the cheekiest man in his claque.