Our hearts taste the same—
Little candy hearts,
Banished for generations.
It’s not rocket science
To stamp out conversations.
G-rated, sweet standbys
Make their way into people’s hands.
Excuse me for weighing in before I chose!
The sugar-dusted air,
Refurbished my ideas.
This confectionary of century-old machinery
Makes for a haphazard practice.
We stood, side-by-side among giants,
Coin-sized newcomers, stable and true.
Now we’ve hit the South Pole
To trim slogans in red dye,
For little candy hearts
Make unlikely neighbors.