Date Night (And the Day After)

Opening line from "Highway Five Love Poem" by Ruth L. Schwartz This is a love poem for all the tomatoes I squished to make our Date-Night spaghetti. Our love, like the pasta, was shiny. So the story goes. We sit at our table, between us a rose Red as the marinara I chose. (He let me). This is a love poem for all our tomatoes. We watch the steam, which the mouth quickly blows Away (like the wind and those petals the day he met me). Our love, like the pasta, was sticky. So the story goes. We sip our red wine. Chianti, it has a good nose. (In the morning, do you think he will regret me?) This is a love poem. For all our tomatoes Are gone, just as the wine hides grapes squished by toes in authentic California vineyards. (You get me?) Our love, like the pasta, was steamy. So the story goes. We finish our meal with gestures the other knows. (I wonder if he'll someday forget me.) This isn't a love poem for all our tomatoes. Our love, like our pasta, was al dente. So our story goes.