Third Date
I remember in the early days
of us, me standing at the counter,
chopping peppers into imperfect
segments, and you crept up
and wrapped your arms around
my middle from behind, and I shrieked
in what you thought was delight,
but was actually fear
because you were about to discover
the worst thing about me -
that I did, in fact, have a stomach
(a secret I managed to keep
for all these weeks),
and you would be so put off
that both the peperonata
and the clean sheets on the bed
would be wasted.
But your arms stayed
where you put them,
and you whispered
that the food smelled good,
and I smelled good,
and for whatever reason
l decided not to make an excuse
to shake you off, so we stayed
like that, me chopping my imperfect
peppers, and you
holding and whispering.