Catfishing Shakespeare

By J. Kaiserman '23

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Though ‘neath these blaring notes and flashing bulbs

My pen writes air. Thy face mine eyes can’t see.

Might I speak under moonlit sky to thee?

Thy blackest hair night’s amber glow now frames,

With grin that parts thy rosy lips sculpted

By Time’s fine brush. But thy visage, I think,

Doth not seem sister to thy profile pic.

Heathen! Shall I compare thee to this maid

Who you claiméd to be? Banishéd be!

The bend’d bow of okCupid blinded me

And thus I offer up this urgent plea:

Beware, ye fools who seek true love online.

For there, the harlequinned snakes oft seem fine.

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