💼 Wednesday’s Boxers

The Rise, The Fall, The Rearrangement

Hello, readers,

There’s nothing like a cheeky poem that captures The Rise, The Fall, and The Rearrangement of men’s bits in Wednesday’s Boxers. I’ve been told the poem is pretty spot on, but I’ll let you all be the judge of that.  I keep reading this poem back, I just have this image lol and I have tears rolling down my face 🤣

It’s Wednesday morn, I stretch and yawn,
Boxers clinging like they’re freshly drawn.
A little too snug, a bit too bold,
They ride like cowboys—uncontrolled.

By coffee o’clock, things go awry,
Left or right? Don’t ask me why.
They bunch, they shift, they plot escape,
Wedging deep in places no cloth should drape.

At work they dance, a twisted fate,
Tug, adjust—no time to wait.
The silent shuffle, discreet repair,
The boxer waltz men know to bear.

Lunchtime chafes, the seams declare
A mutiny against my derriere.
But come 5 p.m.—off they fly,
Freedom’s bell rings near my thigh.

So here’s to boxers, brave and flawed,
Who guard the crown, however odd.
They lift, they cradle, they sometimes fight…
But damn, they make a suit feel just right.

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