Tonight Ba and I wrote about 20 poems about each other and these were the best two about me (that she wrote)
Marisa doesn't really know
Where exactly she wants to go.
To the hall, or libraree--
Where will little Tommy be?
Corners are Marisa's things
And every night she has 20 flings.
Chicano, white, and black men too--
But the final product looked like Andrew.
The best by me about her:
Bobbie doesn't dig those lectures,
Now she's into architectures.
Things built well are what she likes--
Especially when they're bods like Mike's.
Bobbie's mom is quite confused:
"Which of her muscles has Bobbie used?"
'Cause every morning (what a bore),
Bob complains that she is sore.
