PHEROMONES WERE IN THE AIR
He saw her elegant face on a Satsuma vase,
but discovered a loneliness gnawing her gut.
She, sad as a weeping widow in explosive licorice—
he, trying to cheer her up with his Charlie Chaplin
song and dance routine.
He thought often of Confucius’ advice:
It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.
His patience, and their mutual scent of pheromones
helped her to get up and dance, leaving her dishwater days behind.