bookishly loud lean
laconic castaways swirl
lewdly blushing queen
While I'm not a big fan of surrealist poetry, I'm pleased never the less. Giddy, even. Well, maybe not giddy, but positive emotion.
I positive emotion you Bingo. Superlatively.
You too should write a poem for me. I promise to positive emotion you, too. You'll probably read this on Monday, so it's not like you'll be doing any real work. Get your asses off of Tribe and put your quills to paper. Consider it an early birthday gift. (PS-Friday, people.) There's no quicker way into my heart (and pants!) than a poem professing your desire for me. We English majors are quirky like that.
Otherwise, I'll be forced to post some of my own poetry, and nobody wants that, now do we?
