Here.


President Carter's former press secretary lives down the hall from me
She sticks notes under my door looking for a girl named Jordan.

I'd sure like to be Jordan.

"You'd be a terrible housewife."
Phew.

Miley Cyrus is on constant repeat on my iPod.
I wonder if she would give me personal twerking lessons.

My mother said I would never get a job while simultaneously using
the words cunt, dyke, and pussy in casual everyday conversation.

The egg guy at the farmers market told me that if chickens
sleep too much their egg production drastically drops.
I don't want to be infertile because I sleep too much.

I don't understand why Hillary won't just announce she's
running for president.
We all know she is.

I'd drop out of school to work on that campaign.

Last week at the Ani concert she said her husband told her she
looked like a goat when she gave birth.
God help you if you call me a goat at any point.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem