Wednesday, October 7, 2009

An Ode to Drunk Late Nights in Chapel Hill

A poem:

Bad Poet
Fucking a bad poet
is like ordering Gumby's.
You only do both when
very drunk, and you think
at the time that they
will be so satisfying and
worth the money you spend
on them. But after a couple of
days of sitting around, they're
both stale, soggy, and still
very cheesy.

by Jesse S. Rice-Evans

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