thanks for linking your huge grey eyes with mine
when i handed you your mocha frappuccino,
instead of continuing your day
having never actually seen me.
thanks for trying to stick up for me
in that argument on the lawn
about women’s reproductive justice.
it was cute the way you yelled
“a woman has the right to her own body, man!”
thanks for sticking around to hear
my poor grasp on rhythm
as i attempted tambourine solo on that karaoke stage.
unfortunately, you should know that i’m
not much better when i’m not intoxicated.
thanks for asking me to dance,
and then when i said i couldn’t,
making me dance with you anyway.
i tried not to giggle aloud
when you tipped your white wide-brimmed hat
after the final two-step of that misty Friday night
i know that you drive a big ole’ Dodge
and sit at Sonic after hours to pick up
a babe or a fight
i find you charming.
so, your grammar sucks,
but you don’t.