The Pilchard and the Librarian
I was told
That love is not like butter:
It doesn't get thinner when you spread it.
But I have found
That distance will stretch
your feeling thin.
And I never thought
That blood was thicker than water
Because yogurt is thicker still.
But I thought we
Were viscous enough to last,
To cohere, the Pilchard and the Librarian.
People said that six hours
Was not far,
That 301 miles was nothing to fret over.
But the land within each hour
Demands more of us
Than we had bargained for.
So I believe that love is like an oleo
And that ours is somehow off
I can't stomach it.
But there is something
In our near identical biologies
That lets you swallow it without pangs.
We are left with a low calorie substitute
A pat of something lesser that makes one gag who knows the real thing
I can't believe it's what we have.