I FUCKING HATE Discovering that 1 Pair of Boxer briefs That did n't make it To the laundry basket After I have carried that Plastic finger trap two blocks home While the stink of too much dryer sheets Clogged my nose. Not only does this Experience leave me With a sense of "Unfinished Business", But it also means That the C(8)O(7)U(6)N(5)T(4)D(3)O(2)W(1)N To the next trek to the coin-op Has been cut by 1. My brain won't process that Until it's too late And I'll either be Digging through that beige basket, Enforcing the "stink test (sniffing each boxer in the crotch and ass areas"), or going commando. Won't you smile for me?