Hangin’ with Cupid
Cupid came over for a beer
last night. I just want to talk, he sighed
as he parked his bow and blindfold.
No one is satisfied with the job
I do. The complaint box
is full, my arrows are blunt.
Who’s gonna pay for new equipment?
The quiver factory has been downsized.
They were using turkey feathers.
Turkey feathers? Can you believe it?
In my day it was pheasant—elegant and colorful.
Love is out of date. The modern version is
friends with benefits. Where’s the
romance in that? He smoothed his
ruffled wings and straightened his sash.
They’re using match.com instead of
invoking the great god Eros. Taking things
into their own hands. Ethernet, smethernet!
I used to do it up right. Champagne, rose
petals on the bed, a little Frank Sinatra.
Now that’s class. Hey, you got another beer?