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!