Overthunk

People with placards All over this town People with placards Bring me down Come buy the leather Sofa that must go This is the final week For the twelfth week in a row Every item 6 dollars And splotched all with flowers Every item 6 dollars And it lasts 6 hours Hire someone desperate Forty-nine bucks a pop To stand in a cow suit On the corner block Ousting the unborn Out of the womb I'll never do it Do I have to look? If I didn't think Getting saved was required Is one verse on a poster Going to save me from fire? People with placards All over this town People with placards Bring me down

Pants. Pants and a sock. Pants that didn't appear to be poop-soiled. Pants that didn't even appear to be old or much worn. Not hobo pants. Just black jean pants. Right smack in downtown Dallas , not a side street or culvert. Where people perambulate, not where they sleep on benches or burn barrel fires. Non-hobo pants, near a cathedral, seen shortly after Chinese New Year. Crumpled waist down, as if Clark Kent had lost weight, making their fit too loose, and they slipped free of his waist as he raised his arms to the sky, and Super-flew into the blue, a freak gale or greedy grackle snatching a souvenir sock from one foot.