or corndogs on a stick
Talking to the friend
I’m with. Doesn’t have to
be rose petals and candle-lit

dinners for two. I see valentines
as baby cheeks and bubbling
creeks/not champagne. February
doesn’t have flowers growing

in the garden. It has snow angels
on the lawn. A song
bringing back memories. Printed cards
of sentiment written in

print from a stranger, sold
in the dozens and bought by
husbands and boyfriends that
say less do not impress! I can sink

in a hot tub with a glass of wine
and recline on the couch without
a chocolate touching my mouth,
running over my lips, past my

tongue, clinging to my hips.  Ah,
the young are so naive. Don’t
they realize Valentines can be
puppy dogs and babies.