yet another poem for my dear friend.

dear mr. olmsted--
why cant you frollick with me in bed.
bc of a certain egghead (named matt)?
dude--that wanker has no street cred.
pretty sure he's off his meds.
oh, ry pie--pls choose me instead!

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adore coming up with these things on the fly for my friends. they give me just as much joy as the slightly more cerebral stuff. :) 

you can also read my first poetic endeavour in his honour here.