She's Too Fly, I'M Too Trekkie

Written from the perspective of a younger and even nerdier version of me. A kid who confused courting with chasing Romulan. But a kid with heart. She don’t deny she’s so fly; So hard to see; Gone in the blink of an eye; But a bird of prey has to try, he can’t be shy... Feathers slicked back, I’m feeling sly, Feeling smooth; Thinking that I own the sky; I spot her tracks, lick my lips, The prey’s in sight, I lock onto those enterprising hips and make my move; I lay down a line that I’m sure has never been uttered before... She laughs and says, ‘You’re not my sort of guy!’ And why? Perhaps she doesn’t like my syfy; She might think that my Vulcan salute is moot; But if she would only let me do the mind meld, I would show this lady a world she has never known before... Of course, if we did the mind meld she would find out about my collection of GI Joes, and then you know she’d let go. It’s funny – It doesn’t matter that I am one of the pros who can deal with life’s throes, That I never call the ladies hoes, And that I know the right time to throw down a rose and a rhyme... Because she is into a bling-blang ding-dong; Who has his head stuck in a bong; Half the truths he knows are wrong, he learned them from a Kanye West song; Yet she goes back to his nest to get undressed, And together this couple, these oxymorons, they consummate; All the while I sit alone at home, thinking of Lieutenant Uhura, and I masturbate.