i sat in my mother's truck for the first time in a week
his hair covered the cab seats
and stuck to my pants
i noticed his collar on the dash
'MILES'
all dogs die
but maybe they go to heaven

Lately I have conversations with the devil in pants
She was beauty , *** on a stand
She had gold in her hands
Blood in her eyes
She would make me a tempting offer
You can have all that is mine
I turned down her offer
Walked away a quarter to nine.

Lately I have conversations with the devil in pants.
She invited me for dinner
I did suit up on time
A little over dressed, roses in my hands.
I sat at a corner , took up a carving knife
Of course I couldn't trust her
A grin on her face when she poured me a glass.

Now me and the devil had a dance
Each time I try to leave my body held me back.
Tic tock the clock would tick.
I was supposed to leave.
Looked up, clock would read a quarter past nine.
Now I look at the mirror
I see gold in my hands
Blood in my eyes.
I am the devil in pants......kazer 2018
Tm-Narcissus...Tm-beast... Tm-god.

I have new pants
They’re a joy to behold
Such a perfect fit
And the colour had me sold

I braved the shops
Conversed with fake ladies
I hate it so much
I’d rather go to Hades

But the God of Shopping
Smiled down at my endeavour
Said have some lovely pants
I hope they last forever!

U.S. Congressmen
getting caught
with their pants
down

i pull up my pants -

leg, leg, zipper,
buckle
.

the room heaves with me ,
a breath released
and a mind
unclear :
.

i don't know if
he made me bleed,

i don't know if he
even
would .
.
.

the sky looks yellow
as he walks me home,
but it's not:

it's blue
and the wind stings my
cheeks
.

I left
immaculately folded tan chino pants
cuffed and disheveled
atop the department store rack
in the Young Men’s section.

They were too big at the waist,
letting me swim laps in them,
stretching out the front with a thumb and forefinger
looking like a successful weight loss ad.

Atop the rack they sat,
cuffed and disheveled,
amongst immaculately folded
tan chino pants
its kin
and they looked human.

Something about them,
factory made, dime a dozen,
not on sale,
but with the spectral imprint
of spaces and wrinkles where legs had been
amongst all those patient, forlorn folds
gave humanity
to the anomaly.

Liar, Liar,
Pants on fire,
You are a naughty liar, man,
When did you care for a woman?
Don't say you're my friend, liar,
No wonder your pants are on fire!