Love Soup

Dedicated to Michael, Kim, Joey, James, Stephen, and Mikey

Many of my friends, a lot of "the guys,"
are scrambling to find fiancees and mates,
all of them dropping like so many flies
into the sticky soup of Love; that plate
that is either cold or too hot to eat
or has a gross fleck floating on top.
But my friends still continue to repeat
their mistakes, flying head-first into the slop.
It seems soup is the one thing that flies
can't avoid, like moths to the light bulb or,
better yet, pigs to the slaughter.  I would
like to think that after so many tries,
I would just give up and let the soup pour
down the drain.  Give it up and call it good.