Fiendish Valentine Search

don't wait, don't wait,
the last minute, what a killer,
racing through the grocery store
at midnight, looking
for a card, the mass of red on aisle number seven has a voltage meter
registering pain, each new husband walks the floor,
choosing cards that make sense,
no gushy, fluffy stuff from
manly men, no dopey, kookie rhymes with
mush attached, something straight-forward, succinct, timeless, a heart
to heart fumbling for expression that can't be expressed, a note from
a song too beautiful to bear,
oh damn it,
nothing fits, and the candy shelf is empty and the only sweet thing
in the whole store is some pop-tarts.