I jetted to Italy
last week to interview
sweet, dead Juliet.

So how is
that true love thing
working out for you,
I asked?

Not well, she replied.

Romeo is grown
old and cold,
his fingers like ice,
his kisses like stone
his ardent desire
sadly has flown.

I pointed out,
in all fairness,

You realize that
after 400 years
you are mostly dust?

Well then, she snapped,

make him into
a vacuum cleaner
that he might
**** upon my sweetness
as he did before.

You may call that
true love.

It was a disappointingly
predictable interview.

   ~mce