Fourth Thursday

We're at a barbecue.

She just turned 20, I'm a little more seasoned,
it's our first time meeting
and we're awkwardly eyeballing the ketchup,
laughing uneasily.
She's laughing because i look puzzled.
I'm laughing because she says "Catsup."

She says "It's weird when you call it 'Ketchup.'"
I say "It's kind of a 'Tomato-Tomato' type thing."
She giggles and takes the ketchup,
we look away,
she staring at her toes
and I am staring at what i want to say next.

So i stare.

and I stare.


She stares.
I glance at her.
She stares.

and I puzzle piece her in elegance,
ballrooms and I was an accessory,
augmenting but never outshining,
diamonds wrapped gold
around her fingers

and she says
"I know this sounds random,
but rings are like tiny handcuffs."
and I say,
"I know this sounds random,
but there's no keyhole for rings."

She nods,
I cock my eyebrow,
she says
"Maybe because we're never
supposed to take them off,
even if it turns our fingers
purple."

And I'm awkward,
"You look good in purple."
And she's awkward,
"I'm wearing blue."

And I wonder where I saw
her in purple before
and she wonders the same
and I wonder if this is what it's like
to dream about someone when you're awake,

And we talk about Lupe Fiasco,
because i want to see if talking about daydreams
makes me act like I'm in the present,
but instead we talk about coolness,
because our food got cold and she's a little bitter,

And she asks,
"Do you want to take a walk?"
And I ask,
"Where to?"
And she says,
"Somewhere."

And we walk,
and I realize that I'm not comfortable
following and that she walks really fast
and I remember where we are,
that these sidewalks were rain-washed
of grass clippings and blood
and that a lot of these brick walls were
reinforced with bullets
and that this is where she's from,
and she walks like there are shackles on her feet
and every step breaks those rings
and I feel guilty that I was just thinking
that her legs were so nice

She looks over he shoulder.
"Are you tired?"
"No, but a little lost."
"How can you be lost when
you're following me?"
"Touche."

And we walk, further into her neighborhood,
to a park, and she sits at a bench,
and I stand next to her
and she looks at me like she has something to say
and she says it.

"I say really awkward things."
She's correct.
"I like awkward things."
She laughs.
"We have a lot in common."

And I have to be the more awkward one.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No, I have a problem."
"Which is?"
"That i can't love someone I trust."

And I see her,
fatherless,
mother who hates men,
and she, a woman hurt before
she knew what love was.
Who never knew
that you can be in pain and pleasure
at the same time,
Who thinks that men are afraid
to let their fingers turn purple,
and

and

she stands up and kisses me on the cheek.
I look at her confused.
She says,
"I don't really trust you just yet."
I smirk,
"Touche."

And we walk back to the barbecue,
she says
"It was fun getting to know you."
and I say,
"Are we done or something?"
and she says
"What, you think we'll see each other again?"
and she laughs
so hard that tears fall
from her closed eyes.