Thank-you note

1. Dear guy in my class that I hate: bluth. Your hairy half stubble, full greasy top under hat, shunts your flaccid penis for posterity. Keep talking, B.O. and cigarettes, keep talking.

2. Your dung lit up white and expanded, it clocked less than a minute adjacent to the crooked spoke, which is to say I pile-drived your snapdragon.

3. Tickle dip, your sister's blue bristle juice was tight, and she thanked me.

4. It's not pleasant; somebody diarreahed in my oxygen container.

5. For I hid my synthetic down spread in the cucumber crystalline. When we jumped from the tenth floor windows and chairs, I ignored your breast meat, only for the whipple to shrink.

6. I was the pony made of pepperoni; I was the belogna and the testeroni of the alimony and the allegory of the alleged.

7. Indeed you were the muscle to my crabtree; the crapshoot to my emergency conjunctivitis.

Before I start this poem

you must know
some things I've been thinking;
about fingers sliding across keyboards
further now, telling the truth
some runnoff
of the human condition
cannot tell a lie
your identity jam is beautiful

But before I start this poem
you'll know
what you are to me is wrapped
in word parts
affixes in mouth sounds
l's, g's, k's
memories and future memories on a reel
phone, text, book, car

But before I start this poem

how perfectly correct
or amazing the clarity