My day was going bad, it was.

I burned my tit (spilled coffee) because

I blew my muffler on the interstate

And at home, I have no one with whom to fornicate.



As I walked through my door, just a minute ago

I sat in my computer chair, riding low.

I clicked on a button to open my inbox

And saw your name to my great shock.



Shannon (last name omitted), it did say

It was the best news that I had heard all day.

My mind a'spining with possibility

Because she wanted to subscribe to my column, you see.



Oh, Shannon, you know not how I feel

The joy, the pleasure, it is surreal.

You've made my day, it is true

And all this poem is for you.



Whenever I am sober enough

I promise to send you all my new stuff.

This elation, this happiness, I wish you all could feel it

When someone likes to read your bullshit.



And so I say, to you my dear

It is from you, I wish to hear.

And when you write, please attach to it

Some wholesome, classy naked pics. (just kidding, unless of course, you want to)



Note: not all of my subscribers will receive there own poem.

Another Note: I recently found out that Shannon is a guy, much to my great dismay. Oh well, I'm open to new things I guess