So yesterday, I was splitting a scorpion bowl with a friend of mine at a tasty Hibachi place.
About halfway through the meal the alcohol went to my head–and by the end of the meal, I was slurring a bit. Naturally, my decision at this juncture was that I should pull out my phone and begin texting my partner about Mr. Junior–his penis. This was not an unusual gesture; drunk texting his penis has become a bit of a tradition between us, a form of affection. Yet yesterday I had received good news that put me in a particularly inspired mood, and I decided that the regular cock compliments would not suffice. This time, his penis needed poetry.
The following texts were what ensued.
Thu, May 30, 2013
…I love your penis. And scorpion bowls.
I met Mr. Junior one day
and asked for a roll in the hay.
Mr. Junior said no,
and called me a Ho.
Since then I have been a clinically diagnosed alcoholic.
Haha! I joke. I’m not an alcoholic. I just cry and fap a lot.
Haha! I joke again.
It’s mostly crying.
There was no immediate response. Forgetting it a while, I went to a friend’s house, watched a terrible movie, sobered up, and went home.
It wasn’t until the next morning that my partner responded, asking me if I’d had a fun night and expressing his belief that as a poetry blogger, I had a duty to share the whole debacle with the internet. I hope you found this enjoyable.