Old friend, you need some new prospect.

Look what love has made of you, a swooner

and a sonneteer to boot, weepy-eyed

as a willow tree. Maudlin tomato leave

me be. Catullus would have had your ass.

This business between us is merely breadcrumbs,

behind us, however strewn. Instead of yourself

pity the boy or girl who might follow

our dim-witted paw marks by mistake.

Oh Venus, she shoved us in and laughed.

What a hot oven is the hell of love!

When she let us out, you'd've thought our hearts metal,

worked o'er by Vulcan's coals; yet you and I

beseech her still to turn us into gold.