Romance is in the air. It’s what my horoscope keeps tellin’ me. An’ I keep lookin’, keepin’ on searchin’ for that perfect other. The One.
I see him in ever’ face. Ever’ darn word I read here on these internets. But this one’s gone married, an’ that one’s too darn young. Some of ’em are even the gay. Damn shame that is.
I can only write poetry when I’m done drunk. Well not done done, but you know what I mean. Hafta have some of that wine in me. Not the high falutin’ stuff, jes’ the cheapo crap you get down there at the liquor store. The kind with the twist cap. Don’t take much to get my skinny ass plastered. I get a ragin’ headache goin’ on nex’ mornin’ though I tell ya.
So I was talkin’ to my pal Phil t’other day, an’ I tol’ him I was lookin’ for the The One. An’ he says, well damn, Nessie, I got one! So I cuff’d him right ’round the ear an’ I tol’ him where he could stick his one an’ it wa’n’t gonna be in me. Damn Phil. Hehe. Always gettin’ in a good joke.
Yep. The One. Always searchin’.