Dueling with a windmill,
Dear Romance,
You died a homeless death
Before you were even born,
Love worn like an albatross,
Forms a bond like non-dairy creamer.
Dear Romance,
You were traded for vitriol,
Cast into the sacred river Alph.
Blake, Wordsworth, Keats, Coleridge, Byron & Shelley-
Is not a law firm or Wall Street trading company.
Dear Romance,
Just ask anyone! Well perhaps not a good idea.
Pallbearers all were they at your funeral.
Revel society in your hollow modernisms!
Soulless people, food and aps.
Dear Romance,
We sing "Auld
Lang Syne" scarcely aware of Burns.
And tear-up not
for the lost year but our lost selves.
Pity that your
poetry doesn’t show up on Coke cans,
Or at the very
least a Super Bowl ad.
Dear Romance,
When we stared
into the abyss and you didn’t stare back,
Was when we knew
that we were dead too.
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