Cat wrote me a sonnet. It was payment for using my printer, but still. She wrote me a damn sonnet. (She wanted to pay me in nakedness, but I said that I get her naked in my bed every night, so that didn't count.) It's mostly inside jokes so it will probably be incomprehensible to most of you, but I feel the need to post it here anyway.
Aborted twins all twisted in a lump
With double sets of legs and arms, the sound
Of Sapphic folk rock, kit-kat bites like bumps
That fused to form a crunchy chocolate mound,
The "homophobic crackle," piles of black
In quite the plethora of forms, the blue
Of unwashed Tupperware, a looming stack
Comprised entirely of texts, a few
White pairs of boys' briefs -- one with tiny bees --
And navy sheets with my side/your side stains,
The smell of jug wine, "Carlos Rossi please,"
Fresh snow, the perfect tackling terrain,
A couple scribbled entries in your book,
The thoughts behind a single, well timed look...