so my mom asks me
who is it at his house that I'm so interested in seeing all the time?
because she'll never approve of him since
he weighs too much weight and
takes up too many inches and
knows how to fix ATVs and shoot 22 calibers and
I've got a sickness in my throat but I
gather up my No. 27's and
drive out to your house on Quail Roost and
when I tell you our friendship is grand because we just don't talk you
quote Pulp Fiction to me and
let me fall asleep on your chest.

you liked me first because I had the sensibilities to
pick up your boom-box so the CD wouldn't skip and
wear canvas leggings in the Everglades and
hold your grape soda so you could smoke weed
out of a blown glass pipe and drive with your knee
down Loop Road.

you liked me second because your dad
wouldn't wake you up when I slept in your room
with my head still spinning from cheap Richmond Heights beer and
my hair all a-mess from the godawful humidity.

God only knows why else maybe because
I say very little and
smile a whole lot and
rarely complain and take up a foot of space on the bed.

anyway so Loop Road says he's gotta give,
gotta stop smoking so much and
go to MDC.
he says he's a
chauvinist pig but
he's too scared to
touch me.