Hi everyone. Did you all know that yesterday was Stooph's birthday? I did. Tonight is her birthday party/dance party/make-out party. The gaiety of the event has inspired this week's poem.
Stooph and Me
Stooph and me, just us three.
I own your elbows; you call me creepy.
Like two happy princesses we hold hands and frolic in the park.
You kick me in the crotch after I try to make out with you in the dark.
I'm mesmerized, and hypnotized by your stellar wavey dance.
I lose all self-control, and I wet my pants.
You call me on my cellular telephone when I'm two feet away.
On my refrigerator your pretty construction paper rainbow will stay.
I'm ready: Depression! Yet, you always erase my pain.
Tromping, stomping around in your boots in the rain!
Your boyfriends (all 32,oo4) are held prisoner in your love cage.
Your stories, like a fine cheese, will get better with age.
Although you say I'm creepy, at least we both know,
I'm not the one who looks in on me through the bathroom window.
I'm a traveling giraffe! I'm a gonna get what's mine.
Yay and hooray forevermore for blessed John and Stooph Time!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY STOOPH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Love,
Papa
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