Cut Flower Series 1

Okay...so I've wanted to write poems or mini-short prose-stories about my dating experiences...I'm not sure if this is technically a poem...because it reads a little like a short short mini story...anyway, it's late and I should be in bed to function for the kiddies tomorrow, BUT you should know...I think this is the beginning of a series of poems about dates and the 20-something dating experience....something like that. Good night. Let me know what you think....I know you will ;) 

 “I’d like To Think Everyone is Worthy, not Always Compatible, But Worthy”, He Said We wore coats and scarves and wooly hats when we met on the corner of 57th and 7th. You took me to your favorite place. You convinced me that a margarita wasn’t a girly drink because we were in a Mexican restaurant. I was just curious. I said I’ve been here before, and you played disappointed. I suppose we both truly value good impressions, but we were both presently distracted by what we were struggling to find. You had said you hated the phone. I understood. You were quiet and breathy when we spoke. You talked about spoiling your dog and your love for fiction. I heard her panting in the background, jealous for our lack of conversation. When our margaritas arrived, I wished I had asked for salt, just to have an excuse to play with the rim of my glass. Instead, I stared at your hair and wondered how much gel you used. You noticed. It’s not over crowded and the conversation is nice. You talk about coming of age, your frat boy days, the band you played in, the overweight ex who once was skinny, and how you moved to a foreign country to teach children. You had cut your hair, got rid of your piercings and changed your life. You did most of the talking. I excuse myself to the bathroom - one room in a small hallway between the kitchen and the dining area. I wait for the door to unlock. I peek at you sitting and waiting, not even taking out your cell phone – not even to pretend to check a message that isn’t really there. Something I would have done. I return. We talk, you talk some more. It’s much too cold to think of leaving. So he said, he didn’t want this night to end... We shivered our way to a Starbucks. He bought me chai. He showed off his iPod. We listened to music. Most of it I hated or didn't understand, but I nodded and smiled. He hugged me on the subway platform. I kissed him lightly on the cheek. Maybe I shouldn’t have. He told me later he wished he had kissed me like he wanted to. Next time, he said. “Next time I’ll try that kissing thing”. He made me smile even though next time never came...