Chlorophyll Casanova

“Look who’s coming! My Rosenkavalier! Bow to me first… now present them! Ahhh– Merciiii!” ~ Blanche DuBois, ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ by Tennessee Williams
Your first bouquet: red roses, orchids, hyacinthlilyjasmine
clinging together, bursting forth; fountain of Spring
breaking through Winter, desperate, yearning
gasping for its old perfume, romance in-carnation
Youth, trembling, crying out for release, clasp it to my breast,
like it’s the knight-in-shining-armour,
one-way ticket to the great beyond, the world of real women
where masked suitors shower my doorstep in petals and pollen and
a paramour with a soul, and a great deal of dough to spend
at a florist’s. Romeos are clamouring at my keyhole,
wedding bells every time they hit the doorbell, and they ring,
and ring, and ring… you hand it over with a smile, affectionate pat –
unaware of the wheels set in motion. I’m overflowing, bubbling,
freshly uncorked
The world of romance I knew, always knew, lay
merely a bouquet away
By sunset
petals are swimming in the toilet bowl. It’s been flushed.
drowned. swept away. and I’m still firmly on my feet.
It was black you say, withering awayI just thought it needed to go.
 barefoot on the linoleum threshold, that I haven’t been carried over
waiting once again, to be made older.
For those that are still waiting


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