My Valentine’s Tale


The city is covered

With the preemptive promise of

A clean slate,

The way waste is buried

Under a landfill,

Promising not to ever again lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do.

With each snow flake at a time,

In a restitutive nature,

Restoring the love

Its habitants pretend to still share…

 

It is easy to assume things,

So allow me to go ahead.

There is not one person who is not loved,

Not one person who does not love

In this tantalizing place.

Subject to the fact that only two people can be in love.

In other words,

It is a Hollywood script in action.

Madame Bovary would have been proud.

 

This hypothesis was tested

In an undersea kingdom near the coast of current day New Guinea

At a time of transition

From kingdom to a coalition government.

Here is how it all happened.

 

Some natives decided they liked oysters better than the cheap basa,

A regularity in the community for every meal in the day,

And rebelled to create their own clan

Who would only eat oysters.

They dominated the fish market,

Exchanged their revered oysters

With other vegetables from the natives of the neighboring kingdoms,

Soon seized the power of the kingdom and six other kingdoms,

Becoming the power elite.

 

As the country got wealthier,

They expanded their boundaries

With colonies that had different fish.

At the end,

Oyster was not the shared preference any more

Although everyone still valued oysters more than anything

And, there was enough oyster to feed the kingdoms and all their colonies.

After ten years,

No one harvested oysters anymore

And the community suffered a lost of taste

The taste of something they loved.

 

There is a little bit of these indigenous people in New Yorkers

Who are assumed to have perfect matches of love.

And, when all the couples come together,

The butterflies in their stomachs get confused and fly away

To other people with almost perfect values,

Who even know the difference between a virtue and a value.

 

Maybe, if more people lied, cheated and stole,

We would hold onto our collective solidarity more tightly

And leave our individuality aside,

Understand that we need each other to be able to love

And hold onto our butterflies,

The way we would hold onto love.

Assuming butterflies exist and are manifested through love…

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