It was great to meet you last week
what with your charm and beauty and willful ways.
I have been thinking about you
quite a bit
since that golden age of yesterday.

I find you beguiling.
I find you educational.
I find you an inspiration
and, rest assured,
you’ve inspired me to write a thousand odes.

I’m making bad poetry over you.
I’ll write about everything you do.
Think you’ve got my attention? You haven’t got a clue.
I’ll write all the bad poetry over you.

I’ve been looking up all the words
that rhyme with “splendiferous,”
so I can best catalog the thoughts I have
when I think about you.
I’ve even drafted some lines for Opus Alexandra,
Number One.
Here’s the start:
“Your lips painted red
a fresh blood swath
across your shimmering white face…”

That’s the stuff!
That’ll prove my love.

Well, love might not be the exact right word
for what we share.
Maybe it’s lust
or limerence
or looting the booty.
Either way
I’ve got a lot to say
about what I think about you
and you’re gonna hear it
every week at the open mics
for many a month to come.

I’m building a slam book all about you
listing all the ways you make me happy and blue.
If there was someone else I wanted to be writing to
I wouldn’t have all these bad poems for you.

I’ve got eight jillion bad poems written for you.
If you’re nice to me you’ll hear some of them, it’s true.
If I get sad, that day you will rue
cuz then I’ll unleash all the bad poems ’bout you.