Peanut Butter Pants

customs

All wore peanut butter pants

where the world spread jam

As the tailor tried to fit you

in a bread you'd call his clam

And you paid for more than sticky

when a sandwich would expand

And your filling was for others

that your taste was in their hand

And you never knew another

for leaving you alone

When you're made up for the moment

that someone would condone

And were gobbled up for nighttime

when your love was there to be

Joining jam and peanut butter

nightly for the spree

Author's Note

customs