The Pilchard and the Librarian

I was told

That love is not like butter:

It doesn't get thinner when you spread it.

But I have found

That distance will stretch

your feeling thin.

And I never thought

That blood was thicker than water

Because yogurt is thicker still.

But I thought we

Were viscous enough to last,

To cohere, the Pilchard and the Librarian.

People said that six hours

Was not far,

That 301 miles was nothing to fret over.

But the land within each hour

Demands more of us

Than we had bargained for.

So I believe that love is like an oleo

And that ours is somehow off

I can't stomach it.

But there is something

In our near identical biologies

That lets you swallow it without pangs.

We are left with a low calorie substitute

A pat of something lesser that makes one gag who knows the real thing

I can't believe it's what we have.