Today is the hrmrmrth anniversary of Crystal‘s 21st birthday. In her honor, I wrote this poem. And by wrote, I mean stole from “So I Married an Axe Murderer” and changed the words:
Cool cougar creating her canvas.
Beautiful, bedazzled, bipennate banter.
“He wants you to dance,” he cried into
the webcam like a blogger who’s clinging
to his seat while wearing no pants…
except his boxer briefs with holes.
I need rhythm.
Dancing’s really hard.
This poem . . . sucks.
Happy birthday, Crystal.