Date And Switch

A goldfish by his girlfish dumped
Might feel before his friends enchumped
Had he shown off his cumberedness
Too zestfully. Now cumbered less
And clearly bachelorified
If he’d, of late, too glorified
His dancing of the pas de deux
With Miss Now-Missing-You-Know-Who
In manners that he’d second-guess
When they were fin, he’d be a mess.
But though she can’t resist a joke,
Dame Fortune favors finny folk:
Where their affaires du mer may lack
Duration, they’re amnesiac
To such extent that broken hearts
Fade faster than a flounder’s farts
(And flatfish flatulence is known
For transience and dulcet tone).
A formerly-forlorn fish-ex
Won’t mourn for long: His loveship wrecks
At twenty-eight past two; he’s fine
And righted by 2:29.
And what of what his friends might say?
They’ve all forgotten, anyway,
That he had ever been empaired,
So any love triangle’s squared
Before the pain grows too acute
And spiteful jibes are rendered moot,
As is that flaccid maxim we
Recite, re more fish in the sea,
For, really, who needs more than one
If trysts are mists as soon as done?
The goldfish dumper and dumpee
Need only wait a mo’ or three
Before amour again takes hold.
Who wishes they were fish, and gold?


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