We'll be the coolest couple,
married on a cold, calculated date,
looped in a palindromic calendar,
to-and-fro at a robotic rate.
A triumphant strategy so oh-so-clever
that no-one will turn up on this day.
No cake, no speeches, no first dance,
no father to give the bride away.
We'll be the first item on the news,
I see what you did there, they'll say.
It will all go viral, millions of views
back and forth and round again.
Good luck to those robots in 3030
who spot what we did in 2020.
Earth will be eerie and at least half-empty,
the planet singed and fucked by then.
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