Blind Date
inspired by Shopping for Poetry, by DHBogucki
I attempt to walk
slowly, as to not relay
how overly-excited I am,
in heart-bumping anticipation
of our time together.
Trying harder,
I fail faster, because I’ve only
chosen you from the line-up
for your cover art.
Admission:
I am a base creature.
If you’re one of those beauties
with that silky-smooth coating
I want to stroke all day,
you’re already two-thirds
into my pocket.
However, there remains
the actual test of words,
which outweighs all other indicators
of enjoyment, and may possibly end
with our first date.
Plowing in brain-first
as senses cool their heels,
I pray you’re as good
as your marketing.
My eyes flit to see
if you’re paying attention,
or just watching me
adjust my shirt, while glancing
at the other titles.
Tension rises,
and I’m impressed, but I’m not
easily sold. I turn, and you jump
up off the page, enticing me
into lip-biting.
I hush you.
Not too quickly now…
we need to savor, not devour,
slow sips, never gulping,
swaying, not grinding.
You take me there,
managing to capture my flag.
I need more than one viewing
to choose my ending.
Unleashing
my wallet, we glide
to the purchase counter,
where they slip your real phone number
into my outstretched palm.
