Before her lunch break
she seemed like a cameo
in a short story I read a long ago
I didn’t want to recognize
my first date in the United States.
She looked different in her gray t-shirt
and hand-me-down jeans
and her red and white paper bag,
Chick-Fillet, the down-trodden.
When I was young and lost and never found
she came to the cafeteria with me to teach
how to eat fries with ketchup with no forks,
but fingers picking one at a time.
Our first date aka our friendly
trip to the Downtown Cinema 8.
She and I talked about life
when my English was broken
I wanted to give her a kiss at the end
like they tell you in movies,
the Hollywood make-believe,
I respected her agricultural mind.
How you got to wait till the seeds
bloom in the late autumn in green,
make you their equestrian queen
Above all, the corn maze, the lean
Reptilian was her fantasy, we had a
date after three years later, and
then I let her go when she told me
that she preferred snakes to rabbits
I believed her when we were alone
in that room by the Florence Street.
Bats were playing cards
against humanity inside the walls,
and I walked up to her room.
She gave me a hand-out of the church
she went to, and I told her
how much I loved a god loving girl.
she believed me, but she didn’t
the god that I believed in before her.