by Stephen Gold

“In a sign that Spain is going off dating apps, men and women of all ages are
said to be searching for partners in the supermarket chain Mercadona.”
—The Times

In downtown Garcia, José and Maria
Decided to shop for a mate.
They bumped in the aisle.
He asked, with a smile,
“Would you like to go on a date?”

“¡Ay no!” gasped Maria. “The very idea
Consumes me with feelings of dread.
One glance at your trolley
Has shown me the folly
Of risking a night in your bed.

I just want a man with a glorious tan,
Who’s a star of the pool and the gym.
But I see what you’ve bought,
And I can’t help the thought
That whoever he is, you’re not him.

Cigarros and booze aren’t the best things to choose,
When you’re hoping like hell to impress.
Or churros, or pies,
Or those jumbo-sized fries.
Let’s be honest, José, you’re a mess!”

And so, poor José had to go on his way,
Still an hombre pursuing his dream.
On the shelf, sad to say,
But consoled every day
With a galón of chocolate ice cream.