B is for brains and beat-up bifocals,
black and blue elbows and bad overbites,
brooding brown eyes and biceps like baseballs.
B is da bomb! So where were you last night?
Blah-bitty-blah-blah. I’ve heard that before –
the best laid bullshit this side of Beijing:
Keep blaming that buddy from Baltimore,
and I’ll bash in your Buick. Stop babbling.
You beat ‘round the bush. You’ve burnt every bridge.
You’re bruising and blighting beyond beyond.
Now bye-bye be-yotch I bitterly bid.
The billionth botch-up will break any bond.
The best was basically what came before.
Bygones are bygones. Go bless the back door.
For the last two years, Drew Pisarra has been writing sonnets inspired by a Venezuelan philosophy professor who dumped him, and by the meaning hidden behind certain numbers as well as letters used to represent numbers in algebraic equations.