How do I hate you, let me count the ways—
was “love thee” once, but that’s a shopworn phrase.
Whether our age inclines to love or hate
is, sadly, always open to debate
but there’s no doubt—at least not since vers libre—
that thee is rarer than a checkered zebra.
Today’s most dated poet knows one must
commit one's hast to ashes, dost to dust;
alack, alas, and O, shalt, goeth, thence,
apace with whither, wherefore, whence, and hence.
I never liked thee, thou, or thy, or ye;
In your case, I'd say, cross out I and me.
It seems there’s no one pronoun that will do
for, come to that, I’m not too fond of you.
Frank
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-- Frank
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