Ode to a Poet

As I have mentioned before, I am sometimes struck by inspiration at odd times and places. So, for my adoring masses, here is a little poem that struck my brain last night. Enjoy!


I wish I could write poetry like you,
Put those phantasmagoric phrases together as you do-
The way you fit together thought and emotion so lyrically.
And though you claim not to have internal rhythm naturally,
I can hear the beat. In the crashing, sliding turbulence of words,
Images that can only be seen once they're heard.
You're gifted with a talent I can just barely touch,
Like a painter who can't seem to find the right brush.
See, that simile was awkward while yours are full of grace-
Come effortlessly to describe perfectly the right feeling, time, place.
And while this clumsy ode to your talent seems to flow so easily,
I can't help but admit that it's because you inspire unworthy me.
So maybe if I'm lucky we can spend a little time
To search each other's souls' voices and open up my mind.

Has head firmly implanted up own ass

Here is a situation familiar to every single woman: meet guy, talk to guy, exchange number/aim username/myspace info. with guy, possibly kiss/make out/hook up with guy, be promised further communication... then... nothing. An e-mail or text, possibly a phone call if lucky, followed by the great, dooming silence. Some women shrug and move on, others obsess. I would be the kind that obsesses.

So, why does this happen? What would cause a seemingly normal male to completely dismiss his chances with someone he claims is beautiful, intelligent, and fun? Here are a few possiblities I have bounced around, inspired by a recent experience:

• has scary jealous girlfriend that was momentarily forgotten in the radiance of my presence.
• was scared off by my odd choices in poetry/stuffed dinosaur in my bedroom/random sports-related texts/etc.
• was disgusted by my choice of music. (So I like Christina Aguilera? I have an equal appreciation for Johnny Cash, the Beatles, and other dude music. Actually, I have very male and mature taste in music, but "Candyman" happens to make me smile.)
• is afraid of telling me he has the clap.
• took off his champagne/martini/beer goggles and realized the princess is a frog, or alternatively that I really am too good for him. (This depends on the fluctuating state of my self-esteem.)
• lost all phone and computer access in recent floods and is desperately seeking ways to contact me to no avail.
• is dumb and absolutely clueless about when to call a girl, even when I've asked him.
• is working on perfect song with which to win me back when he finally calls (hopefully not titled "Crazy Bitch from NYE" or like.)
• has genuinely been too busy, but has thought of it often and is silently berating himself for not having found the opportunity.
• was lying and didn't really ever intend to call, but is typical male lying liar.

The moral of the story: Gentlemen, if you say you're going to call, call. Ladies, if he says he's going to call, don't believe him, and occasionally maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised.