Falling for my hamster’s vet

I watched ‘Language Lessons’ last night,
and honestly, if my Spanish teacher had been Natalie Morales,
I would have fallen in love too, but then again,
what if Imogen Poots had followed through on her original plan
and become a veterinary surgeon? If I had gone to her
to get my hamster neutered (not that I have one),
would I have even noticed her, let alone fallen for?
So here’s the question: What are the origins of attraction?

(And for the record, I find Ms. Poots to be a stunning beauty,
but that’s beside the point—or is it?)

The game of colours

What are the odds of getting one double-yolk egg,
let alone a whole box? One in a thousand, I read,
and yet the latter happened to me just the other day.
You have to admit, I must be one lucky bastard
or an unlucky one, depending on the superstitions
we follow. Speaking of which, I have always wondered
why blue is considered better than red and white imposes
its supposed supremacy over black, brown, and yellow.
After all, in the game of colours, nothing lasts but the dire
shades of pale.

An altruist

I bought the ugliest curtains
I could find—so ugly that no one wanted them
even on sale. But they cheer me up
every time I walk into my bedroom,
for there is some pitiful beauty in them,
or so I tell myself, because truth be told,
I didn’t do it out of some insatiable sense
of altruism—they were the cheapest,
that’s all. But doesn’t it feel better
to see yourself as an altruist
rather than a miser?