You could have met me, yet/
there was something you just don’t get./

The wit, the comedy, the intelligence, the flair,/
the romance, the courtesy, it’s still all there,/
like a gerkin and pastrami, smelly,/
straight from Katz’s Deli./
You coulda been “having what she’s having!”,/
and it woulda been served with no grabbin’./
You coulda won your heart’s bet./
You coulda been served morning lattes/
with dark chocolate./

With Mr. Buble,/
we coulda danced
and romanced/
to his latest romantic duet … /
and yet….

Here we sit. /
Another week’s come and gone./
It’s the pits/
what you haven’t done/
to have met/
me yet.