Soup Pants

(Gleefully after Daniel Saftler)
Could somebody please explain to me
why,
every time I go out,
anywhere, at any time,
wearing a new pair of pants,
I find a way
immediately
to stain them?

Moreover, it seems,
on that first wearing
of that new pair of pants
– quality pants.
Pants from the best designers.
Pants that are not cheap –
the stains I produce
so remarkably resemble semen?

It is uncanny.
The last four slacks
I’ve broken in
at weddings and dates
and important business meets,
they all have cloudy designs
in embarrassing places.

I mean, sure,
every day
I have to eat
which is where most of the stains come
– arrive. Definitely not come.
Appear maybe? Appear –
and almost every time I go out
I order a bowl
of cream of broccoli
or New England clam chowder
or a winter white soup

and then what happens?
I come home
and the cream somehow
is all over
and people look at me
like I had too good a time that day.

All because
I cannot control my meals
and enjoy myself so much
that the soup in the spoon
makes me jittery
and excites me
and I hit the bathroom
and rub one out.

What does this mean?
Why is it happening?
Could somebody please explain to me
what is going in?

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