blue groove

I must’ve caught the cooties
When your lips got close to mine.
I think you were contagious and sicker that you knew.
You had to be delirious when you said “You’re beautiful.”
Perhaps you had a cold, or maybe was the flu.
But for certain there was something strangely wrong with you.

I think you gave me strep
When your tongue tangoed with mine.
It affected your head, and you thought I was hot
but clearly you were not
well enough to tell
You’re fever tricked you into thinking I was swell.

Now I’m twitching something awful
and my throat is blue and green.
When I laid so close beside you
You must’ve had the mumps.
I bet you were irritated by those tiny, bright red bumps.
Surely you were queasy
When you said that I was pleasing
to be with and to talk to all the time.

When you said I was soft and warm
and too easy to maybe love,
Did you really mean it?
Or did you have a bug?
I think you were contagious and passed it on to me
I’m feeling slightly warm right now, and kinda tingly.

You’re my favorite pair of jeans.
The ones that fit in all those funny places
where the waistline USUALLY gaps in tunnel vision
of that flat spot on my lower back
And the thighs are USUALLY uncomfortably snug.
But you. You fit.

You meander over the curves in breezy style;
You don’t squeeze me awkwardly
Or expose my unsightly bulges.
You fit. You’re comfy.

Sure. There’s a hole in your pocket and some fraying at the hem,
And I’m torn because I want to wear you,
but if I do will I tear you?
and I don’t want to forget you
in my effort to protect you
by hanging you next to my prom dress
and purple buttoned shirt.

You’re my favorite pair of jeans,
so I guess I’ll continue wearing
your navy faded fabric
that fits me all just right.
I don’t want a brand new pair.
I want you. You fit.

(written by M. L. Jamieson)

Please do not use without permission of the author.