You swore you’d never
date someone under 30 again.
You avoided kissing in public,
would not argue politics,
revered The Indigo Girls.
You wondered out loud
whether you could love
someone who drank coffee.

That was the first week.
Later, the chasm between
your offering and my needing
swallowed up everything, left
me sucking through a straw.
But I was twenty-nine, then,
old enough to know better.
I should have heeded the signs.

Poem #13 of 30 Poems in November to benefit Center for New Americans. This lucky thirteen poem was prompted by a suggestion to write about a beverage.