From Gran-Gran

Rocks instead of sweets,

Meet my new date for this

Valentine night of ecstasy,

A girl! With blonde hair

And green eyes,

And she calls me

Every day at around six

She's writing to me now,

Stops at my door, even,

Addicted to my smell

Delivers her letter

Of flower petals-plucked-

Like she likes me, likes me not,

Always on the stem

Remains one

But today in these chocolates

I find true love,

She considered me

It's not the tough exterior

Or the cold hard shells

Of their brown outside

That matter most

But the thought that counts,

I could use these as

Slingshot ammunition

To bring down that cupid

That stabbed me with her face

Or I could take that arrow

And shoot her, instead.

In either case,

I'm glad my neighbor's daughter

Has good taste

To put these chocolates

In her fridge because it works

And then to bring them to me

After I asked her to

And she calls me to say,

"Keep your dog off my yard!"

every day,

Is this love?

Oh, it can't be anything else

I can feel the hunger in her eyes

When she throws my

Re-delivered mail

On my shoes

But wait, one envelope

Has petals, this love must be true,

Oh, no!

It's a postcard

From gran-gran,

"You should have come to France with us, James."