Dear Ibrey Swomm
(Aka Pop culture love poem)
I’m not sure how to say this
You watch too much discovery channel
But I really can’t complain,
Except when you thought you were Survivorman, haha
you put your sister in so much pain.
You have terrible taste in movies
Not once have you seen Jumanjii,
I mean come on, who are you?
Really, not even Gandhi?
Music, let’s just not start
Nor do you have any taste
In ancient, classical, or modern art
All in all these things I’m willing to ignore
I’m inspired by the things you’re so intrigued;
And I’m willing to explore
Because it’s your book I’d like to read.
What I really want to say to you,
It’s so hard to express,
I’m no good with these words
I’m useless, I’m a mess.
I’ll be your attack dog;
I’ll be your Sarah Palin.
I’ll be your Paris Hilton
(Oh wait, no, just kiddin’)
I’ll be your Guiding Light
Or All My Children, or Days of Our Lives
Whichever soap feels like it’s gonna be just right.
You be Paulie, I’ll be Juno
Except not preggers
Because hey!
That’s an un-uh, a hail no!
We could be
Like Heidi and Spencer
Except their marriage isn’t real
Maybe, this isn’t the best example.
Man, you make me feel like a woman
Like Jay-Z rapping about bagging B
If I wrote a song about you
I’d so be rolling in the G
I’ll be Brad and you’ll be Angelina
Oh hold on switch that.
No matter
You and I can see the world together
We’ll have our love end like Casablanca
Mm, but there’ll be no Nazis
And we’ll move off to France
Although, it takes place in Morocco
Do you think you could give me a chance?
So don’t take this the wrong way
But, Like Shakespeare I’m in love
I’m tired of the games we play
And I’m ready to admit
You’ve got me, you’ve won
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