There’s a great thing about Madonna’s latest media onslaught, it means I can drag out an oldie but moldy poem that rocked the house back in the day, but almost no one understood:
SHE'S STALKING ME...
...Madonna that is...she wants me...she can't have me, but she keeps showing up...in her black leather halter and fishnets, buttcheeks peeking out at me from her black leather panties, seductively whispering, "RESERVED FOR TONY"...but there's no way I'm pulling into that parking space...Uh uh...but no matter where I am, she still shows up, embarrassing me...flaunting herself in her vintage undies, writhing in anticipatory ecstasy in her wet leopardskin bathing suit...And whenever I pick up the paper and see her with Jose Canseco or Britney Spears or somebody like that, I say, "Hey great, she's found someone else to fulfill her fantasies,"...
BUT NO, I turn around and there she is again, intimidating all the other women who might want to be with me into thinking, "I can't have him, he's Madonna's Boy Toy...he just ignores her in public the way Johnny Depp did to Kate Moss and boy, DOES THAT EVER MAKE ME HOT!" But I never get to experience their heat because Madonna has them all intimidated into believing that they'll be vanquished into some sort of sleazoid S and M hell if they ever even approach me. She doesn't really have that power, you know...or at least I've never seen her use it...although I have seen her use that bullet bra to gore any woman who's gotten within an arm's reach of me...and I keep telling her, "NO, LEAVE ME ALONE. GET OUT OF HERE. YOU'RE RUINING MY SEX LIFE." But she won't listen...she's obsessed, she's determined, and boy if she ever catches me at a weak or a drunken moment, I hope I don't disappoint her and her overblown expectations of me...I mean, I'm good, but NOBODY...I mean NOBODY'S as good as she thinks I am...and I haven't seen her here tonight, but I know she's here, in some bathroom stall changing into something embarassing...
So when you see her, DON'T be intimidated, she CAN'T hurt you...just watch out for her bullet bra.
Thoughts, large and small, from poet Tony Gruenewald.