I Roses are red, Violets are blue. Spring has decided To try someone new. II Violence is red, Neurosis is blue. The light in this bar Has a purplish hue. Frozen with dread, Spineless straight through, I drain half a wine bottle, Plotting my coup. Moses's Red Dividing in two: The crowd drains around her, I stride up on cue. Poses are shed. Guileless blue Eyes rise to meet me: “No, I'll drink to you.” Cozy in bed… Skylights imbue Us with the reddening Tinge of the view. III Rosé with bread. Violins coo. Candlelight melts To a pool of white dew. Goes to my head. Wine hits me too. Her eyes are diamonds, My insides are goo. Roses are red. While this is true, A man's got to do What a man's got to do. IV “Oh yes,” she says— Violates a few Ancient state laws And a modern taboo— Does all the things I'd been asking her to, Now that we're wed. Somehow I'm blue. V Grossness is said, Vileness spewed. The door of the room Of the night of the feud Closes. A lead Silence ensues. A court case blows open. We're both going to lose. Noses are red, Eyelids are too. The case is straightforward. My tie is askew. VI Roses are blue, Violets are red. Meanings are constructs. The poem is dead. Prose is unread, Stylists are through. Composers are next, Says the Paris Review. No, I misread— Music went first. I stare at my desk And prepare for the worst. Orchids are green! Daisies are pink! This wine's so delicious I can't even think. Cirrhosis ahead: Bile will accrue. Little by little The bill will come due. Roses are rose, Violets are violet. Love is clear prose; Even dying won't style it. Houses in rows— Twilit, outspread. The verdict is autumn. I'm going to bed. VII Spring is in session, The docket is full, The heifer with bailiff eyes Summons the bull, Gold fuchsia indigo Ochre vermilion Are phlox poppies hyacinths Mums by the billion, Senses are evidence, X equals Y, And a couple in Paris Decides with a sigh That is subject to further Judicial review That roses are red And that violets are blue.