Well, less than twenty-four hours after Madonna told friends that A-Rod has "the heart of a poet," the other shoe has dropped. An eight-year-old boy in Boston supposedly found this poem on a crumpled sheet of paper outside Fenway Park. Though we're convinced of its authenticity, we'll let you judge for yourself.


I knew the night I met you
that something special was up,
because I felt peace within my heart
and swelling within my cup.

My stomach did the Running Man,
gurgling with the joy I'd found.
My fingers ran your bases
before heading to your pitcher's mound.

You held your breath as I pulled down your panties
then into home I slide.
We made love like a knuckle ball:
fast, and outside.

Fate meant us to be together
though we each had a tiny glitch.
But our future is bright now that you've dumped Guy
and I've thrown out the first bitch.

Now you're the number-one draft in my fantasy league;
the only one in my batter's cage.
I don't deserve the joy I've found,
and we both deserve minimum wage.

In short, girl, you've smacked my heart:
it's up -- it's up -- it's gone!
Just don't trade me like your last eight dudes
for a player to be named later on.