Pull ‘Em

Stop.

Smarten up your pants.

Then pull ’em over your belly.

Best we forget the snake bite.

Now, leave the garden behind.

And walk on hobbled knees

Draped in fabric and lime.

If Jesus can wear corduroys,

Pencil thin with a cherry zip,

Then what is stopping you

From pulling ’em up like a babaloo?

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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