The Most Romantic Poem Ever That No Woman Will Understand

When my team is 8 and 6

And my fantasy QB gets sick

You’re the RB1 I start

And throw to when the ground is slick.

You’re the treadmill at the gym

In front of the TV

Where I can watch the Yankees lose

With nobody in front of me.

You’re someone I never thought

Was real, but here you are!

Like a white guy who hates frisbee sports

And never tried to learn guitar.

When I hold your hand I feel

Like I am good at math,

And if you asked me nicely

I might even take a bath.

I think you’re pretty naked

Or in a muumuu, though

I doubt there is a clothing item

That could dull your glow.

I would window shop with you

On our anniversary,

And when you sleep, on the toilet’s edge

I aim so you don’t hear me pee.

You smell like guacamole

And when you hold me tight

I forget to pull my belly in

And I know the world’s alright.