The plastic red roses
greet me like bloody banners
to our society's indulgence
commercial love
surrounds me
the primped plastic predeterminations
about that powerful word
I see a killer, a paradise
the tall skyscraper
the paradoxically lovely city
- in my imagination, New York, early dawn.
One try, one choice, one sniff up up up
and then
a molester,
...the molested.

Love
lies, tears
unbidden fall into the pillow
as a twelve year old once
learns the truth about forever.

Love
inflates my chest, breathing
simple harmonic motion
I am difficult, staggering
whirling of emotions
heart racing
the slow touch, the gentle smile
the eyes
tell me a story
of losses unbidden.

Love
walking miles
each morning
in Africa
so the family will drink

for you see
love is not all
plastic red roses
shining with fakeness that flies
straight to my heart

this Valentine's Day
I leave the store
disgusted.