I Beg Your Pardon--Go Buy Your Ads!
The joke's on the ladies
as they stand and peer at their reflections;
Putting on an air of
"this one is...just right."
And dowdy, frowzy,
second-hand they look,
While the designers laugh
in line at the bank.
Now insult to injury add--
these coveted labels, prominently displayed...
On jeans the worst: riding upon your rear
for all behind to see.
Excuse me, Mr. Calvin Klein,
Miss Gloria Vanderbilt et al....
For these duds you charge a hefty price...
and the wearer pays you to advertise your product ?
Allow me to educate you, designers all:
that's not how advertising works; ads are bought!
So, if you want your ad to appear where I sit--
Then it's I who must be paid to wear your pants!
Thanks, but no thanks, designer crew--
your tawdry fashions I'll eschew.
I'll find my comfortable duds
sans labels sporting designer's mugs.
At the hardware store, I'll buy my jeans...
and once at home,
Still rip those labels off the seat!
© 1988 By C. E. (Carl) Elias
More by this Author
Waiting for love, you pine; Waiting for joy you sorrow. Waiting ...
This poem reflects the feelings around the birth of a first grandchild. There is only one 'first' of anything in our lives; but the feeling of a first grandchild rivals the emotions of your own first child.
An exploration of the recent trend of police shooting first and asking questions later--too late.