Zipper Race

Thumbs and forefingers on their mark,
get ready, get set let's go,
down the stretch and pop the buttons,    
why are you always so slow?

Through the loops and over the beltway
we tug then wiggle apace,
over the course hopping and dancing at
our nightly Zipper Race.

Careening one-handed from wall to bed
vainly aiming to steer,
denim flying and Levis' crashing as      
you bring up the rear.      

Then that smirk on your bashful face
emitting a losers curse,
"Why is it Lover that I'm always last
and you are always first?"

Smiling proudly with trophy erect, Banana
Republics hit the ground,
"The reason is quite simple love, you have
more curves to go round