Poetry

An Actual Pterodactyl

Please don’t shit in the punch bowl
I heard someone say
Who is a pussy, who is gay
The biggest fag rides a pink Jag thru a fruity metropolis
Not only am I sexual, but I am also metro
I grabbed a stranger’s hand on the street
And said let’s go
She abided and now our destinies have collided

Hours later we’re watching alligators fight
And everyone around has money on a winner
On the way home we listened to Born Sinner
She gave me her number and that was that
She left her hat in my car on purpose
So she can have an excuse to see me again

I think I’m a ten out of ten
The hottest boy a grim grey block can produce
I’m like juice for the parched
My clothes be wrinkled, yo clothes be starched
Yet I be flyer
Like Michael I Myers
I’m feeling strong
Like when you just put air in a tire
My situation is so dire, it’s beyond the point of critical
For fun, I spend all day sounding out syllables
It’s just a thing I do
My poetry ain’t no shortcut, it ain’t no haiku
I’m the type to have a wedding just to say “I don’t”
When it was expected that I say, “I do”
I’m crazy like that
Crazy as 89 flapjacks
I’m the type that makes people curious as to what’s in my backpack
Like, what could his possessions be, what are his interests
Diversity vision with more views than Pinterest
People be peeping the syntax in texts, so just call it syntext

I prefer real-life interactions
In the digital age that’s a cataclysm
I prefer real-life interactions
You gotta peep my inflections & mannerisms
A truism
At some point was imparted as wisdom

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