your streets gave me blisters.
your cab drivers always try to cheat me.
your stores are filled with strippers and sex toys.
and quite frankly, you smell funny.
but your women are beautiful and well dressed.
and your stores are filled with strippers and sex toys.
so, you know...
i can't help but like you just a little bit.
and oh yeah, here's some other stuff.
i really dislike your airport.
just thought i'd mention that,
since i'm flying home tomorrow.
have i mentioned the stri...
oh right. i did.
and one more thing, stop trying to pass your inns off as hotels.
cause i'm not buying it.
and learn how to decorate.
because you don't seem to know how to decorate.
montreal, montreal, montreal.
thanks for speaking english to me.
except for that waitress at the baton rouge.
but that's ok, because i understood her anyway.
7 comments:
i - thanks. not everyone appreciates my poetry. or maybe they do. i haven't really asked. and how could i forget about the strippers? they're everywhere... and they're naked. at least partially. so i'm told.
This is poetry? I thought you were just having a love affair with the "enter" key. I looked up where you are. I didn't know that land was inhabited. But who am I to talk...the only thing our NBA team is known for is losing and getting busted for pot.
k2 - damn right this is poetry. good poetry. i've had three books of poetry published so i should know.
I don't believe in poetry. It's a crock. Like god, art, and the existence of the last Harry Potter book.
who's harry potter? that's a funny name.
You make me weep with your beautiful words. Where can I buy your books? At the strip mall?
k - sorry. i didn't mean to make anyone cry. well, one person. but not you. and yes, available at virtually any strip mall.
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