I like to follow you
by the scent of your jeans,
to linger by the stitches
and bury my knuckles
in the crooks of the pockets
while I dig for the spots
where your cologne
lies dormant like a seed.
Oh, I want to burrow my fingers
down. Down to the loops
and the tugs of the rivets
where my lips can skim
the button like a bird:
the kind of love
that hooks on to your navel,
that drops down to the seats,
to the electric leather, and puts skirts
around the ankles, and strings up
fists like crumpled cotton,
that shimmies up the rungs
of your thighs, past the tangles and
the frills of the leaves,
to the roots of the roots.
I want to grip you like the honey
between two bees.
I want to lap at the pond
and get drunk till morning,
watching the gulls
close their fists on the ripples
like the world worked over it.
The Used Life 
14 responses to “Jeans Song”
i’ll never look at my 501’s the same way again. love this poem!
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Haha thank you!
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So sensual, thank you.
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I’m glad you enjoyed it 🙂
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I’ll never look at anybody’s jeans the same way again lol, Nicely done!
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Haha thank you! 🙂
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Your words have put life into an object, mostly neglected and uncared for. Good going Used life.
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Thank you very much! Sometimes, it’s refreshing to see everyday objects and events a little differently 🙂
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It surely add colors to our life. Really great piece of work. I could feel it. Nicely done.
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You’ve made me smile. Thanks again!
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I just reciprocated what you did and you are welcome.
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You have brought life into a non-living object. Great going!
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Thank you!
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[…] (often better than active, intentional brainstorming will get me), for an essay. That’s where Jeans Song came from. Middle of the night notebook scribbles. “I want to follow you by the scent of […]
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