Au la French, br Romantic poetry br Is packaged in a lavished box, br Much like Italian spaghetti sauce, br Or sparkling storied Renaissance, br Or a single luminous nuance br In that golden head of yours. br br Oh dear, last lines must always rhyme. br Again! I must improve this time! br br Au la French, br Romantic poetry br Is packaged in a lavished box, br Much like Italian spaghetti sauce, br Or sparkling storied Renaissance, br Or... sentimental sappy bores? br br What was it I said before? br Dear me, again I must reform. br br Au la French, br Romantic poetry br Is packaged in a lavished box, br Much like Italian spaghetti sauce, br Spaghetti! That sounds right for lunch. br br No, dear boy, focus, focus! br (Oh bother, what to write when one is verbless?) br br Au la French, br Romantic poetry br Resembles much a boxing glove: br It often whams you in the mouth br Right when you’d had ‘dear love’ thought out. br br (All right, I give up!) This plan br Of writing warming poems is canned. br br Au la French, br Romantic poetry br Is best left to the French, br Who are experts on boxes and br Spaghetti and sauces and romantic br Renaissances and taunts and responses and br Low-lit sconces and luminous nuances br In that golden head of yellow looped locks.