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The Post In Which I Get My Poet On

How we spent the Fourth of July – A poem by Tracey Garvis Graves

*clearing throat*

For the holiday weekend, we got out of town

To Tom and Amy’s lake house, ready to party down

Here’s Amy and me, having a smashing good time

Courtesy of a few beers and maybe some wine

Later on in the evening, with the kids tucked in their beds

I received a text that made me scratch my head

I looked a little closer and what did I see

Something that looked quite familiar to me

Son of a bitch, that’s our bed, mine and Dave’s

And those are my neighbors, giving us a Captain Morgan fueled wave

We gave them our garage code, fools that we are

And now they’re treating our bed like a bar!

But it’s all good, and all in good fun

And Dave and I thought of something when our laughter was done

So here’s a message from us to you

Don’t forget, we’ve got your garage code too

Seriously, how could you not want to live in my ‘hood?

P.S. Poetry blows
P.P.S. I don’t think I puctuate my poetry correctly
P.P.P.S. I don’t really care
P.P.P.S. I used no bad words in my poem
P.P.P.P.S. I can write without using f-bombs
P.P.P.P.P.S. Fuckin’ A!
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. *Sigh*

This Post Has 3 Comments
  1. WTF….you won’t even give your own sister your garage code and I would NEVER treat your bed like it was my own private party pad…….so wrong
    ~ just sayin :>) that is sooo like your neighbors tho~

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