Your title. My poem. My title. Your poem.

i went to a wedding this weekend and a barstool poem broke out


As far as I can tell, it went something like this:

fuck it, i’m done
Your eyes are roaming and i’m in
Sonoma. I want to go home-a.
I feel so alone-a.
I’ve been nothing but loving
and I’m tired of wondering.
You have eyes that are unfaithful
as if you’re waiting for the date [who]
will rock your world.
Which is what I’ve been trying
to do — but you think you’re too good.




One response

  1. Bob

    P.S. They left the reception early. She may or may not have been happy about it.

    May 5, 2014 at 7:19 pm

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