It's another sonnet I'm afraid. This one's a re-imagining of the classic Offspring song Pretty Fly (for a white guy)...
Pretty Fly (for a poem)
While many men are stylish and urbane,
The subject of our tale has no such flair;
And everything he tries, he tries in vain!
His aspirations sunk without a care.
He’s drawn a thirty-one upon his flesh,
And bought the music of Vanilla Ice.
For all that work, he’s still not funky fresh!
He’ll never be a journalist for Vice.
I beg you, darling, give me what I'm owed –
Or I will count in Spanish till I'm paid.
Most ladies think me charming, even though
My countenance is much too pale a shade.
Sometimes distinction comes to those who wait.
(But you can always go on Ricki Lake.)