Boise State and TCU and … poetry! What a night!
My Supreme Intellect
I can tell by my supreme intellect that you’re mad at me,
I can tell because your middle finger is held up so clearly.
Aha, once again my might brain comes to my rescue
I can guesstimate with some amount of confidence that I’ve just had a miscue
When you asked me ‘do I look fat in these jeans?’ that was my cue
And I think my choice of saying, “did you seriously just ask me that?” and then laughing was a choice I’ll rue.
Once again my mind is hard at work –
I knew something was bothering you the second you stopped swearing and foaming at the mouth and finished your rant with the word ‘jerk.’
My mind is wonderous, wonderful, and wondering
When will my phone ring?
Sure, I broke the ice by saying I liked your wedding ring,
But I just felt like we really had something …
I’m waiting for your call with baited breath my ho-on-the-side darling.
But my intelligence tells me it may not work – that slap did sting.
Here is an educated guess
It was a faux paus when I said, “kiss more, talk less.”
I’m even good at logical deductions
I’ve learned from experience that fortune cookies are hardly cookies, and even less so fortunes
Still, I shouldn’t have taken yours and said ‘you could do with smaller portions.’
Even though I don’t know you, I am thinking you’re miffed,
Could it be because when I cut you off I barely missed?
I’m no less than gifted at learning by observing patterns
From experience I know that I should listen to your concerns
And not respond by saying “blah blah blah” (last time you threatened to feed me your parents’ urns).
(And the time before that I learned just how hot hot chocolate really is … fyi, it really, really burns.)
Yes, my supreme intellect is something to be marveled
But please, resist temptation, I hate being ogled.