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Poem	The stupid jerk I'm obsessed with stands so close to me I can feel his breath on my neck and smell the way he would smell if we slept together because he is the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with and that is his primary function in life to be a stupid jerk I can obsess over and to talk to that dingy bimbette blonde as if he really wanted to hear about her manicures and pedicures and New Age ritualistic enema cures and truth be known, he probably does wanna hear about it because he is the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with and he's obsessed with doing anything he can to lend fuel to my fire he makes a point of standing looking over my shoulder when I'm talking to the guy who adores me and would bark like a dog and wave to strangers if I asked him to bark like a dog and wave to strangers but I can't ask him to bark like a dog or impersonate any kind of animal at all cause I'm too busy looking at the way the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with has pants on that perfectly define his well-shaped ass to the point where I'm thoroughly frantic I'm just gonna go home and stick my head in the oven overdose on nutmeg and aspirin and sit in the bathtub reading The Executioner's Song and being completely confounded by the fact that I can see the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with's face defining itself in the peeling plaster of the wall grinning and winking and I start to yell, Get the hell out of there You're just a figment of my imagination Just get a life and get out of my plaster and pass me the next painful situation please but he just keeps on grinning and winking he's the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with and he's mine in my plaster And frankly, I couldn't be happier.
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