Could I love someone who loves pineapple on pizza?

Could I love someone who loves pineapple on pizza?

By: Francesca Ratner

Could I love someone,

Who loves pineapple on pizza?

Even if he's fun,

And buys it with his own Visa?

We could go for walks,

Watch the bright sunset on the beach,

We'd hold hands and talk –

All that's within our scope and reach.

He's almost perfect,

With warm, gazing eyes and kind smile.

But there's one defect

That would linger all the while.

Never together

Could we sit down and truly share,

Not now or ever,

A slice of pizza as a pair.

He'd want yellow fruit,

And I'd demand my sausage meat.

It might start dispute.

No more would he seem great and sweet.

We could, I suppose,

Then split a much larger pizza,

He and I'd propose,

And still put it on his Visa.

And would it matter,

If we shared the same silly slice?

We could get the bigger platter.

It might work so nice.

But cheese melts and spreads

On half my salty, spicy part.

Sweet, gross taste I dread

Slowly invades, closes my heart.

It simply can't work.

He's too into pineapple mess.

I've got my meat quirk.

It won't lead to true happiness.