Attention​ ​all​ ​potential​ ​females,
I​ ​am​ ​single.
That’s​ ​right.
Single,​ ​Pringle
Ready​ ​to​ ​mingle.
Ready​ ​to​ ​feel​ ​tingles
Again.
Pins​ ​and​ ​needles
Again.
A​ ​man
With​ ​a​ ​plan
That​ ​spans
X​ ​amount​ ​of​ ​time
Holding​ ​your​ ​hand.
When​ ​it’s​ ​cold​ ​outside,
Use​ ​my​ ​jacket​ ​to​ ​hide
From​ ​the​ ​winds​ ​of​ ​the​ ​west
Until​ ​sunshine
Brings​ ​out​ ​that​ ​smile
Of​ ​yours.
Every​ ​day,
I’ll​ ​stare​ ​into​ ​those​ ​eyes
Of​ ​yours.

Of​ ​course,
I’ll​ ​be​ ​cautious​ ​of​ ​the
Gravitational​ ​force​ ​pulling​ ​us​ ​together.
But​ ​hoarse
My​ ​voice​ ​will​ ​be,
Screaming​ ​about​ ​us​ ​from
The​ ​top​ ​of​ ​every​ ​hillside.
They’ll​ ​know,​ ​worldwide,
When​ ​our​ ​two​ ​worlds​ ​collide.
We’re​ ​two​ ​Oxygens​ ​making​ ​dioxide.
Allied
On​ ​this​ ​ride
Down​ ​the​ ​seaside.
This​ ​guy​ ​from​ ​the​ ​East​ ​side,
Flaunting​ ​you​ ​around​ ​town​ ​with​ ​pride.
And​ ​I’ll​ ​abide
Because​ ​who​ ​am​ ​I
To​ ​deny
You​ ​what​ ​you​ ​deserve.
You​ ​deserve…
To​ ​know​ ​who​ ​I​ ​am.

Let’s​ ​see...
You’d​ ​dig​ ​me
If​ ​you​ ​dig​ ​guys​ ​that​ ​work​ ​at​ ​Chuck​ ​E.​ ​Cheese.
That’s​ ​right,
I’m​ ​the​ ​dancing​ ​rat.
A​ ​damn​ ​good​ ​one,​ ​at​ ​that.
In​ ​fact,
In​ ​theater​ ​camp​ ​I​ ​learned​ ​how​ ​to​ ​tap​ ​dance
Like-
Rata-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-tap​ ​dance.
And​ ​I​ ​confess
That​ ​I​ ​look​ ​DAMN
Good​ ​in​ ​wedges​ ​and​ ​a​ ​strapless.
Dressed
To​ ​impress
You.
No​ ​need​ ​to​ ​stress,
I’ll​ ​be​ ​there​ ​to​ ​caress
Your​ ​beating​ ​heart.
Put​ ​your​ ​hand​ ​on​ ​my​ ​chest,
Feel​ ​mine​ ​beating​ ​too,
Boom…​ ​boom…​ ​boom…
Though​ ​I​ ​can​ ​sense
My​ ​chances
Becoming​ ​less​ ​and​ ​less…

I​ ​know​ ​it’s​ ​a​ ​fat​ ​chance
To​ ​assume​ ​that​ ​a​ ​dancing​ ​rat
Could​ ​provide​ ​you​ ​with​ ​any​ ​sort​ ​of​ ​romance.
So​ ​I​ ​ask​ ​in​ ​advance
To​ ​take​ ​you​ ​on​ ​a​ ​date
With​ ​a​ ​freelance​ ​poet.
Because​ ​I​ ​have​ ​romance​ ​to​ ​give
And​ ​I’ll​ ​show​ ​it
In​ ​my​ ​words​ ​to​ ​you.
Please,​ ​give​ ​me​ ​that​ ​fat​ ​chance.

I’m​ ​a​ ​cook​ ​and​ ​clean​ ​kind​ ​of​ ​guy.
A​ ​walk​ ​around​ ​the​ ​park​ ​kinda​ ​guy.
A​ ​prom​ ​night​ ​slow​ ​dance,
Believer​ ​in​ ​happenstance,
Week​ ​stay,
Vay-Cay
In​ ​France​ ​kinda​ ​guy.
I
Can​ ​use​ ​the​ ​first​ ​42​ ​numbers​ ​of​ ​pi
As​ ​a​ ​pick​ ​up​ ​line.
Like
“I​ ​want​ ​to​ ​continue​ ​seeing​ ​us​ ​like​ ​Pi
Continues​ ​its​ ​numbers.
Like,
3.1415926535
89793
23846
26423
82379
50288
41971
Continuous.
That’s​ ​how​ ​bad​ ​I​ ​want​ ​to
Continue​ ​seeing​ ​us.”

See,​ ​I​ ​don’t​ ​have​ ​any​ ​sex​ ​appeal,
Which​ ​probably​ ​doesn’t​ ​make​ ​me​ ​your
Ideal​ ​man.
But​ ​my​ ​words​ ​are​ ​unreal,
Like​ ​the​ ​feeling​ ​I​ ​get
With​ ​you​ ​by​ ​my​ ​side,
It’s​ ​surreal…
But​ ​I’m​ ​not​ ​so​ ​real…
Because​ ​I​ ​can​ ​talk​ ​a​ ​good​ ​game​ ​from​ ​here.
But​ ​I​ ​can​ ​never​ ​really​ ​be​ ​clear
About​ ​​how​ ​​I​ ​will​ ​love​ ​you.
Because​ ​the​ ​English​ ​language​ ​hasn’t​ ​made​ ​words
That​ ​quite​ ​fit​ ​the​ ​intensity​ ​of​ ​my​ ​feelings.

The​ ​truth​ ​is,
I​ ​can​ ​cook​ ​for​ ​you,
But​ ​I’d​ ​rather​ ​cook​ ​WITH​ ​you.
And​ ​if​ ​you​ ​aren’t​ ​up​ ​for​ ​it,
Just​ ​think.
You,
Me,
156​ ​episodes​ ​of
The​ ​Twilight​ ​Zone​ ​on​ ​DVD.
Cuddling…
Breathing…
Leaning​ ​on​ ​each​ ​other,
And​ ​you’re​ ​wearing​ ​my​ ​jacket.
Not​ ​because​ ​it’s​ ​cold,
But​ ​because​ ​you​ ​want​ ​to​ ​know
That​ ​I’ve​ ​always​ ​got​ ​a​ ​hold
Of​ ​you.
I​ ​won’t​ ​want​ ​to​ ​let​ ​go.
So​ ​we’ll​ ​spend​ ​75​ ​hours​ ​of
The​ ​Twilight​ ​Zone
With​ ​your​ ​head​ ​on​ ​my​ ​forearm.
We’re​ ​completely​ ​vulnerable.
Disarm​ ​our​ ​defenses.
In​ ​that​ ​moment,​ ​I’d​ ​think,
Karma​ ​can’t​ ​be​ ​that​ ​bad​ ​if​ ​it​ ​gave​ ​me​ ​you...
And​ ​I​ ​think​ ​that’s​ ​beautiful.
The​ ​idea​ ​of​ ​you
And​ ​me
Linked.
Embracing​ ​the​ ​distinct
Feelings​ ​we​ ​have
For​ ​each​ ​other…
And​ ​the​ ​world​ ​will​ ​revolve
Around​ ​a​ ​freelance​ ​poet
Meeting​ ​a​ ​“take-a-chance”​ ​girl
Through​ ​happenstance.