Are we derailed? While/
she put on siding, I got/
put on a siding.

Me buying fresh, ripe/
strawberries and cream simply/
means I am hungry.

If some oil heiress/
hears me sing/
and swoons/
while I’m karaokeing,/
what shall I tell her? What do/
I say/
to make her leave me alone?/
To make her go away?

When a writer writes her/
during an all-nighter,/
one would expect/
he’ll be a wreck/
if he doesn’t delight her.

Dozens have warned me:/
“Don’t write poetry!” Yet I /
persist stupidly.

Confidently/
I wrote sweet poetry/
to send to thee,/
but alas! vile telephony/
and its technology/
got the better of me/
when my cell phone’s battery/
abruptly/
died.

Someone once said: You /
can’t hate someone you pray for./
And He was perfect.

As I watched a gold/
sunset from the plane, I gazed/
at your gold photo.

With a body like/
hers, no one cares how she moves,/
only that she does.

You should just accept/
that with me, things will always/
be somewhat diff’rent.