Author’s Note: Scarlet Johansson is really, really ridiculously good looking.
Hitch my desire, my ironclad addiction, To your body in rhapsody. Hitch my body, the pig, clutching rust, To you—prestige, a pearl, a perfect island, A whisper, a wail, a good woman. You have just cause to dismiss me, A short legged freak in his ghost world. But—I’m just not that into spirits, As I’ve always admired your flesh. Yet, I’d purchase what’s under your skin Because a love song for a good woman Should scoop deeper than the flesh To avenge a personality lost in translation, Your personality, ardently transcribed from sexuality. Pressure mounts like match point, and still I never predicted you would come to want more. Me, the vagabond, blinded by a simple ambition, To hitch up a good woman for once, To cock the gun, empty the chamber But leave no Black Dahlia. You, in shoes, too tall to see my face, Too tall to see the disgrace of my simple ambition, Too tall to know the place of my desire. You waited for a pearl earring from a man who wasn’t there. Only one of many of my low disgraces I’ve left unspoken to sunken un-expectant faces When the lonely plunge off their island, Short-sighted, heavy limbed, treasuring you The swimmer, and sink you—another pearl For the depths, because all the pages of my diary End with the signature of a loner.
Crawdad Joke Soon 
i wrote a poem, too:
there once was a man from nantucket
who would tell the crowd they could suck it
and then his wife totally ruined the company