The Joy of being Self-Absorbed

Yes.

For some reason, every picture of me slamming has me doing the exact same hand motion.  Like "Okay, listen guys, this is important, okay?"

NERD!

Anyway, I lost the slam yesterday.  No biggie, the people who won were powerhouses of poetic awesome.  Definitely excellent showmen.  They showed me I should probably step up my performance, that I should maybe get a little more emphatic.

In that vein, I'm writing a poem for this week's writing group where the prompt was to not write a poem about sex.

Behold:

This is a list

Of things I think of when I’m with you.

Baseball.

Hairy men in tight pants

And closely trimmed green fields.

Baseballs with smooth white skins

Pulled taught

That I can wrap my hands-

Hm.

Math.

Fractions and decimals

Equations that are irrational.

Building more and more unreal

Growing exponentially

Higher and higher

Until finally you have a solution for sex-

X!! I mean, a solution for X!!

And lying tangent to your curves-

Argh.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.

NERD!!