What is love?

Love? What is love?

Old pictures and notes?

Ill-planned escapades?

I do not understand any of it...

Ah, the look on your face!

Absolute amusement --

As you frown mildly upon your lover...

She has charmed you, you say?

I object in defense --

Innocence isn't synonymous

With amorous sorcery...

You sigh in defeat

And slip off your coat --

Hang it by the door, she suggests...

You fling it across the hall;

Manliness, you think it may portray

And she shakes her head,

Which you fail to notice...

Sir, she has charmed you, you say?

Could it not be the other way round?

I swear upon Eve,

She would have thrown you out

And brought in a new man

Or a maidservant, perhaps...

Love does have its cures and antidotes

Like hot chocolate by the fire --

All alone...

Or curled vicariously up in bed

With Dickinsonian verses

On a Friday night.

- T.R.