A fellow performer here in New Orleans, Sam Gordon, read a poem last week called “Explaining Love to a Millennial.” I liked it so much that I had to write a response from the Millennial’s POV.
Every Day I’m Goslin’: A Millennial Love Poem
You got me Tumblring head-over-heels.
If you were six seconds of video, you’d be lookin’ mighty Vine.
You’re the reason Twitter turned their like button into a heart,
and when I listen to you, I definitely know what the fox says.
You should get a side-job as a fidget spinner because my hands are
usually pretty busy when I think about you.
You look like your entire body is wearing yoga pants.
Whenever you take your shirt off I think I hear the boss fight music from Chrono Trigger.
I want you to flash me so often they could call me Newgrounds.com.
Your kisses taste like Surge.
Ehrmagerd, thinking about you gives me Goosebumps. And Fear Streets.
Girl, you’re the entire Scholastic Book Fair flyer.
I’d go with you to your next DSA meeting even if those letters
don’t mean what I hope they do.
You’ve got big shiny eyes full of lens flares like an anime character,
it makes me Shonen Jump for joy
and looking at you makes my dick go Super Saiyan.
Yo Dawg! Xzibit heard I got a crush on you, so he made you sit on top of a smaller version of yourself so that you can crush you, too, while I’m crushin’ on you.
Hey Paramore, if I said you had a nice body, would you hold it Against Me? Our Chemical Romance makes me feel Brand New when we’re Taking Back Sunday from the Shyness Clinic. So Get Up, Kid; this ain’t Something Corporate and I don’t have a Glassjaw. We’re gonna start a Bad Religion inside the Dashboard Confessional next time we’re At The Drive In. If you want to hear the Story of the Year: I’ve got a Simple Plan to let my Jawbreaker Rise Against your Sunny Day Real Estate, and take you to new Hawthorne Heights if you’ll let my Guttermouth start A Fire Inside your Promise Ring until your Senses Fail.
(I hope all those band references didn’t just have NOFX on you.)
Honestly I’ve got half a mind to Netflix and chill you in the bathroom right now.
I want to get up on you and flop around like those Crossfit guys pretending to do chin-ups.
You must be a charter school, because I want to give you a cummin’ core.
I want to bang you like a Playstation controller: against the wall
when I’m fighting Ruby Weapon.
What I’m trying to say is hike your skirt higher than my student loan debt, because
I want to fuck you worse than the director’s cut of Donnie Darko fucked up Donnie Darko.