 | Obsession Versified |
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The Stupid Jerk I’m Obsessed With
Maggie Estep
The stupid jerk I’m obsessed with
stands so close to me
I can feel his breath
on my neck
and smell
the way he would smell
if we slept together
because he is the stupid jerk I’m obsessed with
and that is his primary function in life
to be a stupid jerk I can obsess over
and to talk to that dingy bimbette blonde
as if he really wanted to hear about her
manicures and
pedicures and
New Age ritualistic enema cures and
truth be known, he probably does wanna hear about it
because he is the stupid jerk I’m obsessed with
and he’s obsessed with doing anything he can
to lend fuel to my fire
he makes a point of standing
looking over my shoulder
when I’m talking to the guy who adores me
and would bark like a dog
and wave to strangers
if I asked him to bark like a dog
and wave to strangers
but I can’t ask him to bark like a dog
or impersonate any kind of animal at all
cause I’m too busy
looking at the way the stupid jerk I’m obsessed with
has pants on that perfectly define his well-shaped ass
to the point where I’m thoroughly frantic
I’m just gonna go home
and stick my head in the oven
overdose on nutmeg and aspirin
and sit in the bathtub reading The Executioner’s Song
and being completely confounded by the fact
that I can see
the stupid jerk I’m obsessed with’s face
defining itself in the peeling plaster of the wall
grinning and winking
and I start to yell,
Get the hell out of there
You’re just a figment of my imagination
Just get a life and get out of my plaster
and pass me the next painful situation please
but he just keeps on
grinning and winking
he’s the stupid jerk I’m obsessed with
and he’s mine
in my plaster
And frankly, I couldn’t be happier.
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Gawd! She’s good, good, good! We’ve enjoyed Ms. Estep’s poetry in the past. Remember Sex Goddess? Visit her website. Buy, buy, buy her books.
xo, Angela
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There’s real energy in Maggie Estep’s poetry. It comes out especially when you read it aloud. She throws the listener a quick image and then just zips on — like an fast-talking auctioneer — to another new and different one. And then another. And then still another. When you hear it all, its like listening to rapid-fire rants of an eloquent speed-freak. An urban poet on amphetamines.
I like it!
An ode to circle jerks. SO some guy she cares not a whit about is obsessed with her, and she with the prick with an ass and he with the vacuous bimbette….and so it goes. A great read. Thanks.
Thanks for introducing me to Maggie Estep. Pictures painted in verse are so captivating.