So, today we went to Fresno and hung out with Bob and Fake Nini. Eventually we ended up at a bar that was doing open mic night. The plan was Bib was going to do stand-up and I was going to read intentionally bad poetry.
So I wrote a pretty sexy poem about Mrs. Butterworth syrup. Yeah, totally funny.
However, we didn’t get a chance to get up on stage and I now feel that my hard work that went in to writing that poem is wasted.
So here it is for you to enjoy, it’s unfinished, but that’s ok:
I sleep and dream. Flowers shoot in my mind like bullets flying in the hood
My stomach turns and twists. It’s in knots that would make a boy scout cry. I want to lie with you, but you lay and lie and die.
I wake up and have breakfast and my eggs remind me of the time we sat out and looked out over the horizon and think about the kids we’ll have.
I open you up and pour your sweet syrup over my heart-shaped flapjacks. I sit and stare at you flapping away as the wind lifts up your apron and reveals the heaven that is your Carmel colored skin.
I take you from behind as you take off your red cap and know that it won’t last. You’ll be drained of all your love and my light will slowly start to dim.
I let your warm embrace pour all over me and cover me with your sticky hot love like the honey that’s stuck to the side of the bear next to you
The table can’t support our
