November 2011
1 post
Were you in Girl Scouts?
You tie my heart in knots.
I
tagalong, half-hitched.
October 2011
1 post
My chances with you,
infinitesimally
smaller than your heels.
February 2011
1 post
I wanna lick, lick,
lick, lick you from your head to
your toes. (Metaphor.)
January 2011
2 posts
Let’s go Eighties Mall
Style—your hand, my back pocket.
And mine? Vice versa.
“There was an error
processing your request?” Who
are you, Tumblr?
Your eyes, they sparkle.
Our chemistry like bombs. The
fallout…fireworks.
My Resolution?
You and me don’t leave ‘til we
exchange kisses, girl.
December 2010
14 posts
Should auld acquaintance
be forgot? In the morning?
Post-breakfast? New year…
This place is full of
pseudointellectuals.
Let’s go tip some cows.
Ouch! Your feet must be
tired. Because your heels are
ridiculous stilts.
Here’s your present. It’s
a Rick In A Box. “Never
gonna give you up…”
I take your picture?
I need to show Santa what
I want for Christmas.
‘Twas the night before
Christmas and all through the house…
your discarded clothes.
You’re a classy girl;
I’d like to stuff your stockings
full of dollar bills.
Tickets to the gun
show? I’ll sell you a seat, but
you’ll just need the edge.
You must be tired…
because parking is mad hard
in this neighborhood.
Was your father a
baker? I’m just curious
about your family.
I thought all the good
domain names were taken, but
you’re thebomb.com
You really can’t stay?
But baby it’s cold outside.
Human Blanket Time.
September 2010
3 posts
I know that milk does
a body good, but damn girl…
how much did you drink?
You be the tree, and
I’ll wrap around you, like a
burly koala.
Opportunity!
Want to make millions?
Millions of babies?
July 2010
3 posts
Hej! We could plan some
beautiful Ikea rooms
together. Hex wrench?
No, I don’t have a
Tumblr blog of men’s outfits.
I’m a normal boy.
Your Farmer’s Tan, the
stuff of lakeside dreams. I vote
you Marina Queen.
June 2010
3 posts
Stand by, future mile
high lady. How ‘bout we lay
over at my place?
I want your digits.
Don’t worry—I can’t call you.
I have an iPhone.
Bend with your knees, not
with your back. Don’t hurt yourself
picking up my jaw.
May 2010
11 posts
Your buns, my grill, we’ll
make a patriotic meal.
Please pass the relish.
If you were stuck in
a computer like Tron I’d
digitize for you.
My fellow Whole Foods
connoisseur, how your lack of
hairy legs intrigues.
Your eyes are ocean
blue, maritime maelstrom. I’m
lost at sea, buoyant.
I would convert to
Pentecostal just so I
could lay hands on you.
Bread, milk, apples, cheese,
sugar, please, I wanna bag
you like groceries.
I’m lovesick, baby.
Your kiss is my cure. Don’t be
so anti-body.
If we were breakfast…
You—gravy. And me? Flakey
biscuits, sopping you.
The curve of your spine,
like a well-read library
book that I check out.
Girl, if I was a
lumberjack, that would make you
a lumberjack’s wife.
You seem so sturdy;
your frame, fit to bear children
and work my farmlands.