valentine's day massacre

I see them in the safeway,
the men, weary,
blank eyed and
wandering. shoulder
to shoulder,
picking up
bouquets of store flowers.
smelling them
for fragrance, peering
at the price
on the little cellophane
sticker.
these will do, she likes
yellow, I think,
or is it pink?
then it's to the card aisle,
picked over
like a week old holiday turkey.
nothing funny is left.
all syrupy and mush,
nothing that says what
our relationship
really is.
what is it exactly?
maybe this one
that says I love you
just the way you are.
but it's not true and I don't
even like that song,
oh well,
i'm tired and it's getting late.
we have reservations
at la bergerie
for a nine course
two hundred dollar dinner
that will still
leave us hungry.
chocolate next. dark, or milk?
the heart box, or
the standard
sampler?
chocolate covered cherries?
too suggestive.
maybe an almond bar
this year. who doesn't like
a chocolate almond
bar, raise your hand.
trader joe's has
them down the street. i'll
get one for me too
and hide it in the car.
what about balloons?
everyone likes balloons.
no. that would
be dumb and reckless.
a ring, a necklace?
maybe a nice butterfly broche.
better yet
a gift certificate
to Victoria secrets.
sigh.
it's all about me, she'd
say. I wonder if I could just
give her a check for
five hundred dollars,
write I luv you on it,
and call it a day.