Poem #54

The most beautiful woman he’d seen,

Dead or alive

(Or, at the very least, top five).

From the wheel of his Cooper

He wanted to toot her,

To evoke winged Cupid

And have the blind boy shoot her.

He needed her like new tenants

Need a wireless router,

Would gladly be neutered

To denude of her of couture-

One problem.

This goddess, this starlet,

Companion of his future,

Was a grown-ass adult,

Riding a scooter.

Poem #52

2018: A Love Story

He was a baker,
She was gluten-free,
By all accounts
Their love
Was never meant to be.

Each day the baker
Felt keenly her lack;
Why, in God’s name,
Did he
Love a coeliac?

But then the baker,
Sick of being glum,
Baked a new bread
Of brown rice flour
And xanthan gum.

She bought the whole loaf,
Dispelling his woes,
And ate it unbuttered
(Being, as she was,
Averse to lactose).

But now the milkman,
Ostensibly coy,
Makes his own play,
I hear, ten pints of soy.

Poem #51

Some things I like about you:

I like that in the past
We’ve probably crossed paths
And can laugh about that now.
I like that you’ve roved
To the other side of the globe
But build your Hadrian’s Wall
At Newcastle.
I like that you don’t stroll
Without a definite goal
In whose direction to direct your sole.
I like that you compare it to skiing.
I like that I smile before seeing
You, and all the way through.
I like that you look like Oona Chaplin.
I like grappling with you on destiny
And knowing you’ll get the best of me.
I like that your eyes dilate with late light
I like
But to like more would be treason:
I call them Shorter Poems for a reason.