“I gaze at the starlit sky.
Visions shimmer in my eye.
What better can there in this world be
Than the unity of you and me?”
Taj Gibson folded up his carefully penned poem, and placed it lovingly in an envelope marked “To Caroline”.
“Yo, you writing that crappy poetry again?” It was Carlos Boozer.
“It’s not crappy, Carlos. I consider it quite good.”
“Man, I’ve seen some of it, and it sucks. Your meter is all messed up and not everything needs to rhyme all the time. Why don’t you just tell Caroline how you feel? You’re a millionaire basketball player. You think she gonna say to no to you? She’s just a cheerleader, and if we’re being super honest, not the greatest looking one.”
“I don’t know, Carlos. That seems kind of forward. I need to approach the situation slowly. Leaving her anonymous love poems seems like the perfect starting point.”
“If anything you’re just weirding her out. And if she finds out that it was you who composed all that poetastery she’s gonna think you’re a joke. Remember Shandra?”
“It’s not my fault that Shandra doesn’t appreciate the “Ars Poetica”. Caroline is different, man. She’s the one, I know it.”
“You really think so? That means you’re gonna be pretty bummed when I tell you that Dunleavy porked her last Sunday.”
“Shut up, Carlos.”