we are poets.

i went to quebec for a week, like always, it was intense.

this poem is dedicated to a boy named jeff may, who is co-author of my new poetry book entitled: "Jeff&Rae", a book of poetry about certain encounters during class time in the library:

there once was a blonde boy named jeff may
and on his spare he'd like to play
in the library, that is true
and distract girl's who's work was due
by throwing paperclips
his terrible aim would often slip
he'd appolise with a "sorry i missed you"

she would wander over to his table to chat
but he so often was a huge, no, mamoth brat
and threw that deadful paperclip right back
and hit her collar bone with a huge crack
she threw it back with a "UH! take that!"

after appoligising and much tears
he wandered over and procalimed his fears
for he was un capable of drawing nice picutres
and nothing seems to rhyme with picutres
but she picked up a pen and so generously helped him
he began to smile, and stopped looking grim
and then some principle kicked them out
but they did not pout
as the lady began to shout.