Do not share an umbrella
with someone
you have just met
a few hours ago
at brunch.
Hard enough to do the dance
with your best friend
or sister.
One walks too fast,
the other too slow;
the umbrella is always
too small.
The attractive stranger
– who makes witty
and charming
conversation
while you attempt
to place his accent –
will be much taller,
making the umbrella
almost useless against pant cuffs.
blowing rain. soaking your rolled up
Do not walk with him and muddy street water
under a tree with low on your curly hair
hanging branches with the frizz rising
waiting to dump water he still thinks you are desirable
all over your face and hope
as you brush the umbrella with tiny napkins
against its leaves you have to towel off
so that when you reach the coffee shop together
*I workshopped this piece at the poetry group I’ve just joined, so there are some changes. Also, I tried to visually mimic an umbrella, but I had some trouble making the arc at the bottom. Use your imagination!