Bessy, my 1 lb. Red Vine pouch
Wakes me in the morning with her
Pleading, plaintive lows.
"Daniel, I'm full. Wake up. I love you."
Foreign smells in my apartment.
I can pretend they don't exist
As long as I keep eating Red Vines.
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4 comments:
Like Joanna Newsom says: it's a man's world.
When I first read this I misread "pouch" as "pooch" (sleep deprivation...). I was all, "Yay! Daniel has a puppy! Yay for puppies! I wonder what a Red Vine puppy looks like? Mental note to google later..."
And then I got to the second poem, and realized my mistake. I have never met you, Daniel, but I doubt very much that you're a puppy-eater.
And this is why Carla needs to take some Benadryl and get some sleep tonight.
As someone who has been a puppy eater, I don't think the practice would help in the 'ignoring odd smells' department. gamy little sons of bitches, you know.
So's your son. Ooooh!
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