when i met ronnie
i thought he was poor.
not that i cared,
it was just what i thought.
he drove a shitty truck,
lived in what i'll refer to as a mobile home
and wore hollister tshirts.
(sorry for all those still sporting hollister,
but really, after a certain age, it's not okay)
it wasn't until later that i realized that ronnie
had his shit together more than most 26 year olds.
and after he met me,
i introduced him to a big world beyond hollister.
"say hello to banana republic and j. crew, honey."
and he loved it.
ronnie has become quite the clothes horse.
worse than me.
just the other day he said he thought
he needed to add navy dress pants to his wardrobe,
because the ones he has don't fit him the way he prefers.
what a picky bitch.
and then i came home last night to ronnie doing his homework:
just when i thought progress was made.
you give him an inch,
he'll take a mile.
someone call security, some poor bum is in my house.