At the Lululemon, love at first sight
the customer is always right is wrong
take a young woman and an older man
how the sparks fly, in his mind, they are tight
except, she is at work, working the floor
London observes from above the small throng
under the guise of security, span
lightning bolts to measure the length of sound
under Doppler effect, heard from the door
lost pitch value, in waves, lingers in ears
emulates a siren on the beach, call
me old-fashioned, love wipes away the years
old men in tears weep before women small
nevermore beautiful than a deer found
little more than an image in a dream
observed in a rear view mirror, so close
virtually, forever, more or less
eternity in a nutshell, a scream
advises the older man to observe
time as not on his side, another dose
fixes syncopated break beats, address
inferiority complexes fast
riddled with spent shells unseen since the curve
slides a fastball south into a sinker
troubles in Ulster, decades lost and dead
signals a peace accord, whilst to tinker
in the basement workshop, silent, unfed
granted amnesty, since then, the die cast
humanity cannot bear the red scare
threats to love, old and new, bid adieu, bear
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