First Real First Date by Sarosh Nandwani

When I said no, you said okay,
“but let me know if you
change your mind.” I changed
my bedsheets because they smelled
like the last boy. Audacity kept me
texting you, listening to
the canorous sound
of my text tone, informing me
I had a message from
my mother asking about my
plans for the night. “I’m hanging out”
with a boy, at a restaurant, yes,
he is driving there, yes,
he will walk me back home after.

What do I do about my
wardrobe? A first real first
date? Surely, I’ll wear a nice
blouse and jeans — oops, too
casual. Then, the restaurant,
where you paid attention
and with debit. Rolls of
sushi like I’d never tasted, and I was hungry
for your lips. “Let’s drive
to the dessert place for
s’mores.” What a delicious
boy. We found a comfy sofa, and
they brought our small bonfire, and
I burnt a marshmallow, but
it deliquesced on my tongue anyway, and
when we finished our three s’mores,
you wrapped your arm around my shoulders,
finally.

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