In my penthouse.
I'd to use it to clean my bike.
He cracked a good deal
At his company after that
And got sponsored for
A free Bangkok trip.
After a year, another friend
Did the same. I'd put
The cloth to some use.
His business boomed too.
The word got around and
Suddenly all my friends
And their friends paid a visit
To leave their undies in
My house and everyone's
Fortune turned.
Did I just become an
Underwear baba?
Beats me but
People started visiting.
Sometimes, I had to
Symbolically clean stuff with
Their undies and they did
Well in life after that.
Then came the skeptics
A professor, a journalist,
A man with a clipboard.
They left nothing behind,
To check my validity.
Their stocks plummeted.
Their lovers left.
One man misplaced
His entire career.
Now they, too, return,
Sheepish, contrite,
Holding their offerings
Like wilted flowers.
I nod. Accept the fabric
Fate has woven.
At this point,
Who am I to question it?
When divinity passes
Through you to lead a creed.
You accept the prophecy
To happily become a
Baba of Undies.