The fortune cookie said love was waiting for me.
I wish it would tell me where she lives.
I’d stand under her window and serenade her,
wear my new suit and shower her with gifts.
Like Romeo I’d climb up the side of her house,
and we’d have a moonlit moment on the ledge.
But that might be dangerous, difficult and irrational.
I think ill just knock on her door instead.
Her parents would wake up if I knock so late
mom might get flattered, but dad might get the gun.
Maybe Chablis for her and Cuervo for him,
some charm and some class and they’d love to have me in.
But it’s love not them I’m trying to win
and the more I plan it gets even harder.
This dating thing is too complicated.
I wonder if the cookie has love’s cell number...