The following is a concise,
but by no means exhaustive,
list of things I would do for you:
Listen to dubstep.
Fight Jackie Chan.
I’d buy you a hundred dogs,
and clean up their shit.
I’d pay your parking fines,
and answer every one of your texts.
I’d lean out the window of the tallest building
to give you a wave.
I would even move to San Diego.
If it came to it,
I’d break you out of prison
using only a nail file,
night vision goggles,
and a lock-picking hamster.
If you went missing, I’d become a detective.
Assembling a wily team of experts
we who would work around the clock
to bring you home.
For you, I’d wade the Amazon
and lose my toes to piranhas.
I’d roll around in
jump out of a plane,
and run into a burning building
to save you, your scrap book of women,
and every snack in your cupboard.
If it made you happy,
I would watch cartoons with you,
and wear tear-away pants
for the rest of my life.
If I could,
I’d invent a new ice cream flavor for you,
made from golden skins of perfectly
toasted butter. Ewww.
I’d send you back in time to inspire
the Monkeys to write every song about you
(except the ‘hey hey’ ones).
If you needed me to,
I’d drive you across state lines
and not ask any questions.
I’d dine alfresco in the Tundra,
let you have the window seat,
belly flop from a high dive,
and save you from a giant octopus.
I’d invest a peace-making machine for you,
and not even try to patent it.
I’d give you everything I’ve got,
tell you the words you need to hear,
and listen to all of the secrets, fears,
hopes, and ideas hiding in your brain.
I’d do all these things and more,
you’re a category five storm of awesome,
a galaxy of cool,
and an outright phenomenon!
You’re not just the best,
but the absolute best.
…please don’t make me eat cockroaches.