Embarassment
She wears a quiet confidence everyday, like a scarf
stained with sweat because she never takes it off.
That’s what she was wearing the first time she ever asked me
for yogurt recommendations.
She saw me standing with my hand on my forehead,
eyes furrowed before the sprawling cooler.
She mistook my indecisiveness as thoughtful
contemplation. When I spoke to her all the words
kept tripping over one another on my tongue,
embarrassing as trying to use cling wrap without scissors,
embarrassing as walking anywhere with a suitcase,
embarrassing as waiting to cross the street or losing
your balance on the train.
So she took her sweat stained confidence
and draped it around my shoulders,
delicate as childhood, and I said,
“go for the coffee flavor, it’ll surprise you,”
“I love surprises!” she said as she
set it and my heart down gently in the cart.
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