You know that moment
when you trip
and begin to fall
and know you’re going
to crash and burn,
but haven’t hit yet?
The moment between
“Oh, crap!”
and “OUCH!”?
Asking someone out
on a date
via email
or instant message
or text,
and then hearing
only silence
is like that:
The moment
just before
the face plant.
When I get stood up/
on a date, I can always/
do open mic poems.
I’d not want to have/
the date of a lifetime, for/
what more could you get?
OR
I would never want/
to go on the date of a/
lifetime. What is left?
I can pick her up/
In my ragtop for a cool/
smoothie. How groovy!
A friend claims all the/
Utah women he dates take/
psycho drugs. Yeah? So?
What’s your limit? Your/
magic number? When you reach /
it, how will you know?
If you set dates that/
are virtual and no one/
calls, you’re still stood up.