Sunday, June 17, 2007

You Don't Even Like Me: A poem by Joel

You don't even like me.
You wish that I had no legs.
You wish I had a wooden leg.
You wish I had an immaculately manicured handlebar mustache
And an allergy to aluminum foil.
You wish I spoke the language of the squirrels.
You wish I could teach you to navigate by the stars.
And you wish that I wore a red t-shirt everywhere.
You wish I smelled like bleach.
You wish I could water-ski barefoot.
And you wish I was a professional potato farmer.