Flashback:1979
High school English class where we have been studying all the classic love poems. My teacher at the time presented a rather humorous take on this poetry with a poem of his own. The essence of his poem was to describe the classic poets as a bunch of horny men trying to lure young women into bed with a bunch of “flowery BS”. We were asked to write a response to one of these love poems set in contemporary times. Here’s the result…
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I don’t think you can guess my sign
Why are you trying to run that line?
You think you’re smooth, you think you’re smart
You think you’ve mastered Don Juan’s art
So you come to me in your tight gold pants
And tell me that you can enhance
My life and I know that’s bull
But you think you’ve got lots of pull
You think you’re suave, you think you’re cool
I think you are a dog gone fool
If you actually think that I
Would be caught with your type of guy
You say we’d make a classy pair
In your wildest dreams, my worst nightmare
Just clear your mind of all that fog
Why, you’re not fit to date my dog
I tell you Jack, I know your kind
You’d never really want to bind
Yourself to me, so just go blow
You sorry little so and so
I’m not going for a one night stand
(And I suggest you move your hand!)
That’s not the relationship I need
So listen sucker, you take heed
I’ve got your number, I’ve got it well
May I suggest you go to hell?
Or go and dance if you’re still able
Or go think up another fable
And tell it to some other girl
As you bump, kick, dip and twirl
Maybe she’ll believe you – probably not
‘Cause I must say you’re not doin’ so hot
I hope she’ll tell you, disco jock
To crawl back underneath your rock
And try your line next Saturday night
On some other chick who’s not so bright.
© 2009 – Andrea J. Shannon
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