A Poem for Friday, September 13

 First and Last Date

The moment he said

“I'll be the one smoking at the bar

reading the "Tao of Winnie the Pooh,”

I should have known.

I should have faked an illness

and cancelled the date.

I should have.

Instead, I took the stool

close to the door

leaned in close

and listened.

Listened to the story

of his heartbreak

his time spent in a Buddhist monastery.

All the while,

I kept thinking:
He spent time in a Buddhist monastery. He can't be

that bad.

But, each time I leaned in closer

noticed the scent of cigarettes, stale coffee and beer

looked at each pore on his face

and pieced together the fact

that he looked nothing like his profile picture

I never once

believed that the date would be going

anywhere.

No matter how good

his stories were.

After two hours of listening

never quite

being heard

I sat still and kept drinking.

When he offered to walk me home

even though he lived a block away

from the bar

I declined.

When he offered to sit in my car

and drive home with me

I declined.

When he invited me to brunch

I said, Maybe.

And when he asked to kiss me goodnight

I said, OK

never thinking

I might

enjoy it.