He plays golf
And when I tell my mother
She laughs
"You are gonna burn this boy to the ground"
And of course
It isn't my fault
That I am an inferno woman
It's not my fault
That he is freshly cut grass
Safe
Hot dog barbecues and football
Eminem and white rappers
Skater skirts and vans
And I.
I am an oak tree
I am the loudest wallflower you will ever meet
I am geometry gone wrong
Mismatched socks
Beastie Boys to Brigit Mendler
The hard thing
About dating a poet
Is that we notice
Everything
We will remember
That you tap your fingers
And look down when you are nervous
We will study your poker face until it is so far cracked
You'll be screwed in Vegas
This boy
Was so bland
He was already screwed in Vegas
And gamblers
Are just poets
With really bad luck
