A Valentine to My Love

When I enter the store my heart grows sick
At the sight of fluorescent lighting
And men milling around in little herds
In front of cards and flowers with
Questions in their eyes.

A woman stocking fake hearts and real sweets
Approaches, asking "May I help you?"
I just nod my head and smile, moving on.
What is left is not much: a candle (no holder),
A few willowed flowers and chalky chocolate
That will undoubtably go on sale tomorrow.

Fully disgusted, I slip aside to the next aisle
And see the reason people still hold out hope.
They are old, he in his flannel coat and
she sitting in a motorized cart. His back
is visibly stiff as he reaches over to place
a roll of toilet paper in the basket.
As I walk by, neither one speaks. I make a
small note of the plastic tubes in her nose
And continue on, head down, hands shoved
Deep in pockets.