Colin loved the Cup,
more than the plate or the saucer,
or the complete works
of Geoffrey Chaucer.

He stopped seeing his mates,
took it out on dates,
to the museum, the pictures,
to Pam’s All-American diner,
Colin and his old china.

He drank from it greedily,
speedily, needily
until one night, in a bath
lit by a water-lily floating candle,
he asked for its handle
in marriage.

Some said that to wed
crockery made a mockery
of matrimony
and remembered with acrimony
the time his sister, Trish,
got engaged to a ramekin dish.

But one week before the big day,
he slipped while carrying
the breakfast tray,
its contents fell to the floor
and clattered.

Colin’s Cup dreams lay shattered.