Mischa Barton is selling her house.
Soon I won’t be able to watch her
walking around in her underwear—
Vacuuming in her bra and panties,
taking out the garbage in her slip.
Maybe I’ll buy her house and pretend
it’s a haunted house where sexy ghosts
whisper sexy things about physics
and art and the ethics of dressing.
Eight million dollars of my money
would let Mischa buy just the right dress
to live happily ever after.
Sexy ghosts in Mischa Barton’s house.
Mischa Barton in just the right dress.
Physics. Art. The ethics of dressing.
In this cosmology me watching
Mischa walk around in lingerie
is scientific research. These words
are the first draft of an article
for an obscure peer-reviewed journal.
In this universe it’s possible
to live happily ever after.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Real Estalker: Mischa Barton Bails in Beverly Hills
Mischa Barton, Mischa Barton
Mischa Barton As The Burgess Shale
Don’t You Fucking Die Mischa Barton
Why Don’t Turkeys Wear Bras?
“Sexy As The Dead Bridges”
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