Money, Food, Love Poem by Terence Winch

He keeps offering me money.
Three thousand, five thousand,
whatever. Name the amount.
I say forget about money.
It's love I'm after.

He says what kind of cosmetic
surgery would you get if
money were no object.
I would get my nose
straightened.
Or maybe get the two frown
lines erased from my brow,
because people always
think I'm angry. But in truth
I am incredibly serene.
The only thing I'm after is love.

She says eat as much of these
tasty slices of turnips frying
away on the stove as you'd like.
Slather them with butter and salt.
They are the world's most unpopular
vegetable, but that is so wrong.
They are really very savory.
But I don't want any food.
I'm never hungry any more.
All I want is love, just love.