Drier lint collected at the edges of my mouth.
I'd picked it away several times
hoping that she hadn't noticed.
The tides came in all over my hands
and there was nothing for me to do but stroke my napkin at the table.
I hoped she'd noticed that even less.
All the chewing gum I had swallowed as a child,
that had been digesting in my stomach for the past seven years or more,
finally re-emerged in the form of my tongue,
which elastically forbid me from forming my words correctly.
I was reduced to that ever popular and over played method of communication,
"The Smile and Nod,"
which was unfortunate
because that only brought to her attention the blizzard of 1997
that nostalgically cascaded from my scalp
and collected in drifts on my shoulders.
I had a lovely time except that the wine had turned
and the nitrates went right to my head in the form of a migraine,
the Caesar salad wilted before it got to the table
under the heat lamps which were also used to cook our main course,
her pasta seemed to be just fine,
but my duck, well-- should have,
the dessert was of the cardboard variety and
the coffee was blackened.
By the end of the evening, she liked me well enough to kiss me on the cheek
which is always a good sign.
But that well rehearsed good night nicety I'd slaved over since our phone call
Slipped into geeky-guy speech.
She smiled anyway and went inside.
As soon as the door clicked closed,
My clown suit dropped to the stoop
and I was myself again.
I saw her peer out her window, so I quickly reached for the clown nose,
But sensing impending danger, my sweaty palm made a quick maneuver and waved.
I forgave it its clammy faults.
I was home again before I knew it and wondered if I should call her on
Monday or Tuesday,
which might seem too soon.
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