To the beautiful girl who just delivered my pizza,
I think I might love you.
I don’t know your name, but I have your number.
(Ok, I do have your name but only in as much as I trust the pizza tracker, and I have been burned before.)
But I have your number,
I am so tempted to do something inappropriate with that.
(No, nothing like that, I’m not a pervert.
Just a stalker.
If the five empty cardboard boxes in my dumpster are any indication.)
I don’t even taste the onions anymore.
(Even though I swear to God I remember to ask for their omittion.)
The tongue-tied doesn’t start
until I check the tracker and see your name.
I love you, pizza girl,
Who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent,
And because apparently there’s two Sams who work at your store
(The other one isn’t nearly as cute as you,
and has a beard.)
But you shall remain nameless pizza girl
Because Sam has hopes and dreams
Sam has a life outside that ugly polyester uniform
(That you somehow manage to ROCK.)
Sam has a degree in biochemistry, or wants to be an engineer,
Or a six foot four boyfriend who could kick my ass but loves puppies.
Sam is a real person, deserving of my respect and consideration.
And I’m in love with you, pizza girl,
The girl of my dreams.
His poetry is a lot better than mine. But this is my blog, so you get poems about pizza girls. 😛