This is a SLAM poem dedicated to my itchy sweater foolishly purchased (by none other than your's truly) at the Our Saviour's Fair earlier this school year. Please read with enthusiasm, and rythm (snapping as if you were in a cafe is allowed). That is, if you are not rythmically challenged. If you are, please read silently in your mind.
I Loathe An Itchy Sweater
I bought you for a quarter.
The worst investment of my life
Your fibers shed onto my skin,
I feel like a freakin’ feline.
I’m sure five years ago you originated on an Alpaca farm.
Those animals spit at passing people.
Oh yeah!?!
I spit on my sweater.
How I loathe thee itchy sweater.
Why was I drawn to you? Oh, so many reasons why.
The musky smell. The faded colors.
The unidentifiable stains. Calling my name.
Dorothy.
Oh what the heck. My grandma made me buy you.
Oh cursed grandma.
How I loathe thee itchy sweater
I threw it into the stench of the boy’s locker room. It lived.
I insulted it in multiple languages- Tu eres gordo. It lived.
I ran over it in Drivers Ed. It lived.
I soaked it in chemicals during the chemistry lab. It’s alive.
I bought you for a quarter.
The worst investment of my life.
I decided to enrich my investment,
Stopped at the Alpaca farm,
And bought the sweater a bride.
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