I imagine if I were a little boy, I'd get a little boy ******* by watching teenage girls buy underwear.
And if I were a little boy, I'd punch my brother so hard he'd start to cry
And I'd die laughing at him,
take back my nerf gun, just for fun in the sun
and I don't get burned
because I haven't had a girlfriend yet.
I think little boys ******* the wrong way for a while
but still smile
because they're *******.
Still keeping it secret from mom,
nothing's really wrong, it's the bomb,
but turn up this song
It'd be weird if mom heard all the pokemon names I keep saying to stay hard.
If I were a little boy, I'd be mean to the little girls I like.
Push them off their bikes and get into fist fights
with other boys over toys that aren't even mine.
And I'd keep all my promises by the pinky,
and if we got married under the oak tree
in my backyard, I'd keep you forever
and we could watch goosebumps every night together.
The little boy version of me doesn't get heartbroken
and isn't smokin' anything.
He doesn't get wasted and tasteless,
grab ***** and faces,
screaming about cheating and beating up some guy just to prove he's alive.
His shoes light up
not the headlights of the car that peels out of the bar
not thinking straight, into the house, irate,
to deliver hate, and take out any sons ready to stand up to him.
He doesn't sell drugs,
he gives hugs at thanksgiving
and isn't too strung out to watch an entire disney movie
and would never be caught dead on the streets
shakin' a can for money because his habit's are debilitating and killing him.
He sleeps with one girl, her name is Daisy.
She's a lazy cocker spaniel
and loves him more than you ever will.
He likes cartoons and afternoons playing tag in all front yards
throwing snowballs at cars, going to mars on a swingset
because he's not grown up yet,
and the world hasn't told him what it really thinks about him.
I don't buy underwear in front of little boys.
And it's nothing against them or their little boy friends,
I just don't want me to be another key in the inevitable end
when they try to get into girls *******
instead of heads.
Copyright C. Heiser, 2010. I don't usually write slam poems, if that's what this is, but this felt like one as soon as I started thinking about it.