It’s still a poem if I include “Ron Paul 2012” in the title

Have you ever thought you found a 4 leaf clover in the grass and tried to reach for it, but instead you realized there was no 4 leaf clover? And now your hand just got covered in dog shit? I have felt that way too, brethren. Times are obsidian, and when you scour that same cupboard for the dreams you’ve been saving up, it might take some dusting to know they’re still there, next to the white chocolate macadamia nut wanderlust and the perfumed gasp you plundered from me. I will admit, I was never aware of things up until 1, 2, maybe even 3 seconds ago. I’m serious, I only voted for Obama to just to see my roommates use the word communism like it was the N word. It was a popcorn fest, and I thought it was worth it at the time. I really sympathize with people whose only job credibility is having worked 40 hours a week for 15-20 years at a miserable company run by gingerbread dicks. Where is the dream? It’s stuck in that jar you keep in the cupboard. You gotta shine that jar every day, or 12 hours just to be safe. When that busted sega genesis don’t work no more, sometimes you just gotta throw up that SNES, with Super Mario: the Lost Levels to break down your self esteem. I won’t end this letter in Love, or Sincerely, because that shit should be at the beginning so you know what you’re getting into. You’re getting into a sincere love message. You can find out that it’s for you when it’s over. Caterpillars look cute when you paint them in watercolor.

To you, Ingamar Ramirez.