Bro,

You really suck at beer pong,

but I’ll remain your partner.

If you were laying down,

Laying across a big brass bed,

I could pour milk in your dimples,

And eat Capt’n Crunch out of them.

You seem like the kind of dude

Who’s never gotten off in a public restroom,

which is cool.

What’s not cool is Facebook stalking you,

But I’ll continue to do it daily

(please check your messages).

I want your Jewish wisdom

To wash over me like a cold Pacific wave.

I want you to notice my new sweater

And how it fits my torso tightly.

I hope that one day

You get a solid middle-management job

with a decent insurance plan,

You meet a nice woman and move to the suburbs,

But for now, I want to be enough for you.

I want to know what you want.

No Homo,

Carson

Bro,

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day

or

shall I compare thee to a Saturday night, cus

thou art more lovely than the TI basement.

Lights dim.

The caress of your hand as we high five.

Two cups sunk means balls back.

Fuck yeah.

You throw it with such perfect arc, such subtle touch

It’s almost like you’re writing

Poetry.

In a self-published book you can buy online

Profits go to your high school English teacher, but

The real benefit is mine.

Cus what I’m reading is such beautiful

Poetry.

If you asked me to walk back to Forbes,

I’d probably say yeah

But just to chill and play Game Cube or something.

On the way you’d bask in the WaWa light-

A glorious fluorescent glow

On your grey Disney crew neck.

Chill.

No homo,

Ben