'Twas a bright sunny day, in my pretty town of Portland
I bustled down the street, my purpose important.
In my arms, clutched tightly, I held my reverse-fade raw denim
In my mind, equally fixed-my dreams of stiches and hemmin'
I reached the Tailor's shop, the door thrown wide open
I strode in casually, confidently, there was no slow-pokin'
But to my surprise, as I looked left, and as I looked right
There was no one, not a single person in sight!
I awkwardly scuffled to the counter, looking for a bell
I wondered if the shop did indeed have its skills for sale.
The search for help continued well past the counter
I spotted a back room, sewing machines, maybe the man with the power.
As I crept towards the setup, no sound had escaped my lips
My eyes, saw the Tailor's hands upon his seamstress' hips
She was pushed up against a wall, their intentions made known
From that tiny office, my feet followed by body flown.
In the heat of the moment (mine, not theirs)
My eye spied a motion sensor above that clothes' lair
In and out through that door my legs took me
In and out, trying to make that sensor see
Finally sensed, a loud beep sounded
The Tailor to the front, at last signaled, bounded.
He was quite short with me, which I thought should be directed towards the pants
I shrugged, garment man--you get it where you can, who knows? It very well may be your last chance.