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