You Can Count On My Return
(There’s no accounting for the bad poet inside me.)
My heart beats exponentially for you,
thump thump, thump thump,
endangering my pocket protector
whose pens shoot out like Cupid’s love arrows,
quick shooting and stabbing, tenderly all night.
Your two brown eyes, like seeing zeros
which I colored inside with a Ticonderoga No. 2 pencil,
do they see my compounding interest?
Baby, you can count on my return.
For, line upon line,
you arouse my calculation
like something my clients say they will keep track of day by day all year long but instead panic and do in one day at the last possible day.
My heart beats exponentially for you,
thump thump, thump thump,
endangering my pocket protector
whose pens shoot out like Cupid’s love arrows,
quick shooting and stabbing, tenderly all night.
Your two brown eyes, like seeing zeros
which I colored inside with a Ticonderoga No. 2 pencil,
do they see my compounding interest?
Baby, you can count on my return.
For, line upon line,
you arouse my calculation
like something my clients say they will keep track of day by day all year long but instead panic and do in one day at the last possible day.
Comments
And now, actually speaking, I did love it. Very clever.