Hello. Above is a picture I drew of two Fiji Mermaids who are obviously smitten with one another. Below is myself and my beloved P. before entering the mad fray that was Saint Valentine’s Day. Note her arrow wound- I think it’s gotten pretty infected. Damn those cupids.

And this was written by a friend and sent to me yesterday. I found it charming, and perhaps you will too. 

GRAPEFRUIT

There is something rather nice about having
half a pink grapefruit for breakfast in the sunshine,
privately, under the wisteria
There is something so awfully nice about it
I cannot bring myself to begin
I drag my fingertip over its meshed translucent nodules
I test it with my tongue
We would have beautiful children
Half-poet, half-grapefruit
Our children would not only be beautiful,
they would also be intelligent, aromatic, juicy,
sensitive and politically aware,
standing up for fundamental rights
in the context of a culture profoundly fruitist and poetist
They would say things like
‘Speaking as a victim of agribusiness’
and ‘My ancestors have known the Spoon’
They would side with the grapefruit relatives
and refuse to speak to my mother
who would in any case disapprove of them
They would blame me
We would have a deathbed reconciliation,
they would say,
‘You may have the intellect of a poet
but you have the soul of a grapefruit’
They would marry unremarkable
but actually rather nice spouses,
and their own children would carry briefcases
and work for banking corporations,
and be embarrassed by the whole business
‘What grapefruit?’
‘What poet?’
they very likely would remark
The sun shifts
The petals drop
How little is left of our breakfast romance
Our flesh our juice our pith our skin our zest  

-Jonathan Tel