The First Seven Weeks

In those first seven weeks movie-love was her vision
She was wet for a while but then she dried up
And my very appearance affirms her decision

My gut and my balding head earned her derision
She tossed me aside like a used paper cup
In those first seven weeks movie-love was her vision

“We don’t choose whom we love,” she declared with precision
But she loved me at times – my fat back was scratched up
And my very appearance affirms her decision

Platonically perfect, or so she envisioned:
“You’re so sweet to talk to, you lap it all up.”
In those first seven weeks movie-love was her vision

Now her journals contain the red marks of revision
No longer am I her adorable pup
And my very appearance affirms her decision

The black horse of “yes” is a grounded gray pigeon
Abashed I’ll be if again we meet up
In those first seven weeks movie-love was her vision
And my very appearance affirms her decision

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