I am a fabric with ridges, often worn by a bear but not too rough on the skin.

It rose with ease from honeyed tone, A sticky delight, like a payday loan. It coated the tongue and stained the grin- You tried to leave, but sank back in.

I go where you go, but I never see light, I wrap what you hide and I cling pretty tight. I’m silent, elastic, and stitched to obey, but flash me in public and folks look away.

I nap on the job and still take the raise. I parent with grunts and affectionless praise. I drink like it’s sacred, I bribe with a snack- then scream D’oh! at the child I forgot to bring back.

I’m always dropping down under the table, then everyone tries to pick me up. They want me to clean up what should have been swallowed. But the more they make me lap up. . . the dirtier I feel.