An awful poet and a great lover
I love poetry. Great poem is akin to a great woman. It’s fluid and jerky, firm and soft, tender and rough, all at once. I know that great poetry attracts sexy women. For some reason, women like rhymes and symbolism. Unluckily, my new buddy here fancied himself a poet but failed to become one. All of that didn’t exactly prevent me from getting frisky with his girlfriend – she was ready for anything for poetry. Literally any-fucking-thing!
