my stomach churns
i’m turning blue
you don’t want me
like i want you
hors d’oeuvres of love
but no entrée
has caused dismay
in this gourmet

no one else could make me full
but i want beef
and you give bull
instead of feeling destitute
i’ll try to find a substitute

if i can’t have you
i’m gonna eat my way to heaven
have a drink or two
or maybe six or seven
by the time ’m through
i might weigh six-eleven
but i’ll still be hungry for you

i went to dine that fatal night
with very little appetite
the food was bad
it made me cuss
your service made me ravenous
it thrilled me
when you tried to flirt
between the coffee and dessert
but now i’m hip
you just wanted my tip
and i eat here every evening any way

if i can’t have you
i’m gonna eat my way to heaven
have a drink or two
or maybe six or seven
by the time i’m through
i might weigh six-eleven
but i’ll still be hungry for you
yes sir
i’ll still be hungry for you

posted by admin on February 1, 2002, at 1:00 am | filed under poetry | no comments »

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