While we're on the subject of poems i haven't been able to write, here's another: "Just Me" (and if i may interject a reflection, i'm fairly convinced that most poetry collections by a single author should be entitled "I Wrote One Great Thing, and Now You Jerkholes Get To Read This Other Shit").
"Just Me" is to be about how i wish to be loved for myself. It has been said that men care about a woman's looks, and women care about a man's potential as a provider. In a qualified, non-essential way, there is truth in that. One of the several reasons i've always been happy to be relatively pauperish is because that's the condition i want to be in if someone falls in love with me. If someone were to fall in love with me after i became well-off, it would be harder to trust that person's motives. I'd rather not have to deal with that. This is particularly resonant lately, because i can feel a part of me moving toward a life path that involves more money (Father or Mother, if you say a word you'll get smacked in the kisser).
I'm stripped down to the bones. Who can hang?
So get jumping, women of the world. The truest man you'll ever know is here, emotionally wide open. Perfect and poor. Loving and loyal. Steadfast and sunny. Flatulent and funny.
Hello, women?
Hello?
Is this thing on?
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