Bonta begins with a small joke: love after fifty won't make the pop charts because it's "too absurd." Then he spends the rest of the poem showing that absurdity isn't a flaw. Each comparison pairs something slightly ridiculous with something quietly delightful. Hot coffee poured over ice cubes ruins their sharp edges, yet the image is oddly pretty. A breath appears like a "day-time ghost." Plain dirt smells better than almost anything after rain, and the speaker playfully asks why that should be.
The final image is the most physical: sparks flying from a rickety grinder, pricking the skin in a way that feels pleasant. It suggests that love at this age may be worn, wobbly, and a little dangerous, but still alive and warming. The speaker sounds amused, affectionate, and unembarrassed. The mood is wry and tender, with no grand declarations. Instead, the poem trusts ordinary sensations to say that something can be illogical and still be wonderful.