I Wouldn't Thank You for a Valentine



I wouldn't thank you for a Valentine.
I won't wake up early wondering if the postman's been.
Should 10 red-padded satin hearts arrive with sticky sickly saccharine
Sentiments in very vulgar verses I wouldn't wonder if you meant them.
Two dozen anonymous Interflora roses?
I'd not bother to swither over who sent them!
I wouldn't thank you for a Valentine.

Scrawl SWALK across the envelope,
I'd just say 'Same Auld Story
I cannot be bothered deciphering it--
I'm up to here with Amore!
The whole Valentine's Day Thing is trivial and commercial,
A cue for unleasing cliches and candyheart motifs to which I
            personally am not partial.'
Take more than singing Telegrams, or pints of Chanel Five or sweets--
To get me ordering oysters or ironing my black satin sheets.
I wouldn't thank you for a Valentine.

If you sent me a solitaire and promises solemn,
Took out an ad in the Guardian Personal Column
Saying something very soppy such as 'Who Loves Ya, Poo?
I'll tell you, I do, Fozzy Bear, that's who!'
You'd entirely fail to charm me, in fact I'd detest it
I wouldn't be eighteen again for anything, I'm glad I'm past it.
I wouldn't thank you for a Valentine.

If you sent me a single orchid, or a pair or Janet Reger's in a heart-
            shaped box and declared your Love Eternal
I'd say I'd not be caught dead in them they were politically suspect
            and I'd rather something thermal.
If you hired a plane and blazed your love in a banner across the skies;
If you bought me something flimsy in a flatteringly wrong size;
If you sent me a postcard with three Xs and told me how you felt
I wouldn't thank you, I'd melt.

by Liz Lochhead

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