On Top Of Being Honest Poem by James McLain

In your drawer are what?
Are they soft and smelling like what?
They are panties.
And panties left there smell of what?
Breathing cotton?
Silk out of fasion?
Rayon or nylon?
Breathing I breath in your scent.
one day or two leaves me spent.
If in my cedar drawer next to yours.
Do you feel slighted if I in you get excited.
Knowing mine lay there next door to yours?
What is a size but a misreprensation.
Of all that is yours that is me.
And all that is you is the soul that is me, next to you.