A Troubled Life

What I can’t comprehend
Is why every now and then
I fantasize my secret wishes
That aren’t really wishes
But who can say?
I don’t want to date
That ugly, creepy, weirdly happy
Whorish, dirty, obese girl
But—
With only one t—
I can’t explain it.
I know I have a chance
For a real hot romance
With a real girl—
Pretty. Smart. Good looking.
Oh, Good Looking.
Yes she could be good looking
And cute and smart and all I want
But I don’t ask her out.
Even though she would say,
Even though she would say,
Even though she would say
Yes.
So why don’t I ask her?
Am I shy?
Or am I just not interested?
Just not that interested?
I don’t know.
I can’t say.
And neither can the gypsy woman.
I need to pull my life together
Get a hot date for the prom
But I can’t decide who to ask
Oh, do I really want to go?
I don’t know.
I think I’d rather study
The biology of bunnies—
The kind with yellow hair
And nail polish.
I would rather study bunnies
Than actually date a girl.
Would I rather study bunnies?
I would not if I could get
my goals without much trouble.
But girls are so very hard to love—
Uh, physically—
And girls act so very differently from what I want
Uh, socially
That I’m reduced in whole despair
To lie alone, alone, alone
Since socially girls are a pain
So giggly and self-conscious.
It annoys me.
But I really like her.
I really want to like her
But her personality annoys me.
So the next best thing—
We do.